Christmas in Europe 1943 and 1944

In December 1943 I was serving in the European Theater of Operations in the United Kingdom and had joined Battery B, 321^st Glider Field Artillery Battalion of the 101^st Airborne Division in November. On Christmas Day we had the usual turkey dinner with all the trimmings and had as our guests children from the area surrounding Whatcombe Farms.                                                                                      

 Christmas fell on a Saturday that year and we normally trained for one-half a day but training was suspended. On the following evening, Sunday the 26^th the battalion sponsored a dance in Oxford, 25 miles away. Among the guests were members of the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS) of the British Army. My major recall of that event is that it is where I met Pte. Kathleen Wells. Her unit was stationed in a private home in Oxford where they performed administrative work for the British Army. We enjoyed each other’s company and began dating. I was able to get into Oxford on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and on Saturday afternoon and evening and if she was not on duty we saw one another. It was good to have Kay as a friend. Spending time with her was in stark contrast to spending time with my comrades of the Detail Section with whom I spent day and night. She and I were good company for each other inasmuch as we were both soldiers away from home and often lonely. We saw each other until I left the UK for Holland with a hiatus of six weeks while I was in France. Another hiatus occurred when she threw me off the train for a short period. That ended when we met soon after during mass at the Black Friars in Oxford and began seeing each other again (the Catholic Church always offered great opportunities for me to expand my social life). After I left for Holland we didn’t see each other again but did write to each other. A few times she sent me a CARE type package of goodies. Assembling a CARE package with the state of the UK economy in those days took a great deal of energy and knowing where to look. We continued to write to each other after the war until there was no point to it.

One year brought stark changes in my Christmas experience. Christmas Day a year after I met Kay in Oxford I was in Bois Jacques just outside of Foy, four miles north of Bastogne, Belgium. A railroad which ran into Bastogne served as the boundary for the right flank of the 506^th Parachute Infantry and the left flank of the 501^st Parachute Infantry. Soldiers from each regiment manned a house in the wooded area just southeast of Foy. During the afternoon the Germans attacked along the railroad attempting to take the house. They got close enough to the house so that German KIA were within 50 feet.

On this day our Forward Observer (FO) team was back at the gun position of our unit, Battery B, 321st, Glider Field Artillery. The 321^st was in direct support of the 506^th and as a result of the German attack our FO team was ordered to the house at the boundary. This was not the usual position for us because of the wooded area which restricted observation. We preferred an unobstructed view of the enemy. Nevertheless we arrived at the house just as it became dark, further restricting observation. We did not have wire communications with the 321^st Fire Direction Center (FDC) and so I checked into the Fire Direction Net on the radio. Soon after we arrived, a patrol from the Intelligence (S2) section of the 506^th arrived. They checked in with the NCOs in charge at the house before going on patrol. A rifleman of the 506^th was a friend of one of the soldiers  going on patrol and asked him if he had volunteered for the patrol. The latter responded, “Are you kidding, on Christmas Day?”

The patrol moved out and soon met up with some Germans who were moving to their rear. An inconclusive firefight ensued and the patrol soon returned to the house and then to regimental headquarters. However, this meeting between the patrol and the Germans stirred up the latter and they began mortaring our position. While I was experienced there were times when I didn’t demonstrate it. I was standing with my back to a window looking at a picture of Saint Anthony on the wall. A mortar shell landed outside the window and a shell fragment came zinging in. It barely broke the skin of my check and struck Saint Anthony in the face. That graze felt like a serious wound and so I ran to the basement door where a platoon sergeant from the 506^th looked at it and declared it to be “nothing.” That was probably my closest call because another eighth of an inch and I might have lost my chin.

For reasons known only to them, the Germans stopped their fire. With this we began to think of something to eat. Because we were encircled by the Germans, supplies, to include food, were short. We had no rations at the house and were hungry. I began foraging and found the makings for basic pancakes, made some and served them. Basic as they were, they were well received.

I don’t recall anything else of this day except for the body of one of the Germans who had fallen while attacking the house earlier in the day. We searched his body and found a photo of an attractive young woman. She was dressed in black laying on the ground in an evocative pose. Wow, I thought, he’s not going back to her. But then, this was not unusual, there were many soldiers on both sides who, as a result of actions on that day, were not going back to their women or to anything.

Colonel James Skelly

James Skelly

Colonel, Field Artillery

United States Army

 

I met Jim Skelly soon after I enlisted in the 165^th Armored Field Artillery Battalion, of the 50^th Armored Division, NJNG in No. I was at an open house in the 104^th Engineer Battalion, NJNG, armory during November 1947.  I saw a First Lieutenant, Field Artillery there and asked if he knew of a Field Artillery battalion in which I could enlist. He certainly did know of one and took me to meet Major Peter G.D. Kershaw, commander of the 165^th, who, after interviewing me for a short time, consulted his notebook and discovered that there was a vacancy for operations sergeant which he offered to me. WOW! I had been discharged two years before as a reconnaissance sergeant and had served as a radio operator and reconnaissance non-commissioned office in the 321^st Glider Field Artillery Battalion, 101^st Airborne Division. When our forward observer teams would leave the battery area on the way to the front we stopped at our battalion headquarters to be briefed. The operations section was usually in the basement of a school or house and in the cold weather the members had jury-rigged a stove to keep warm. They wore only sweaters as an outer garment while we were bundled up from living outdoors in slit trenches. There were stacks of magazines all over the place. The difference between our lives and theirs was stark. The operations sergeant presided over all this. I was always impressed by him and must have seen him as a demi-god. There was no way that I felt qualified for that slot and told Major Kershaw my feelings but he sold me and so I enlisted as the operations sergeant.

In 1939 Jim Skelly was discharged from the United States Army as a sergeant after three years of service in Field Artillery at the United States Military Academy and enlisted in the 165^th Field Artillery Regiment, NJNG. The regiment had recently been converted from Cavalry - not infrequent changes of branch, a little trick that the Army played on units of the National Guard - and was to go on maneuvers the following summer. Inasmuch as no members of the battery knew Field Artillery, Jim was a hot commodity and so the battery commander wanted him as one of his officers. Soon after Jim’s enlistment his battery commander told the sergeants in the battery that they would vote for Jim to become a second lieutenant in the battery at the next drill. On the next drill a representative of the Adjutant General, NJNG, was present while Jim was elected as an officer. The election was certified by the representative.        

During the summer of 1940 the regiment was in the field and Jim, as Battery Reconnaissance Officer, carried the battery through the exercise. Soon after, the regiment was mobilized for federal service in World War II. The battalions of the regiment became separate battalions under a Field Artillery Group and the regiment was no more. Jim served with the 165^th throughout the war and was discharged as a captain. A few months after his discharge he decided that civilian life was not for him and asked to be recalled to active duty as a captain. He couldn’t get this and so enlisted as a master sergeant and was assigned to the position of Sergeant-Advisor to the 165^th. The Army is great for changing its mind and 18 months later he was recalled to active duty as a captain in the position of Army Advisor to the 165^th. After three years in that position, he left the battalion. Several years later I heard that Jim was a colonel in command of a Field Artillery Group in the Far East.                                

Jim was the Sergeant-Advisor to our battalion and knew what he was about. Our positions caused us to work together much of the time. One time stands out in my mind. We were on Annual Active Duty for Training at Camp Drum, NY, conducting service practice. As the operations sergeant I was supposedly running the Fire Direction Center. I had never even seen a FDC in operation, let alone run one. Jim had conducted a few hours of training for us before we went to Drum but this was not enough and he knew it – as we all did. We were not the only unskilled members of the battalion. Major Kershaw had been the executive officer of an Anti-Aircraft Automatic Weapons Battalion and knew nothing about Field Artillery and so Jim was running the battalion during service practice. The FDC was set up at the observation post so that Jim could supervise the officers firing each mission as well as those of us in the FDC. Once again, much was riding on his knowledge and skill. As the horizontal control operator I was nervous about my skills but Jim was a careful supervisor and no rounds landed outside of the impact area.

Jim impressed me not only for his skills and ability as a leader but as one of the last men elected as an officer in the 165^th. I became so interested in this procedure that I read the old NJNG regulation concerning it. I looked at him as a big brother who could show me the way, just as I did toward Lieutenant Fran Canham who had been my leader for five months during World War II before he was Killed in Action. Sadly, the officers who followed each of those men did not meet the standards that they had set.

Jay Stone

Circa 2010
Madison, Alabama

 

Market Garden

Operation Market Garden

Jay Stone

Sergeant, at the Time Private

Battery B, 321st Glider Field

101st Airborne Division

The days dawn early in the Army and September 17, 1944 was no exception and we were up early, drew our parachutes and other equipment. I drew an equipment bag and packing for our radio and batteries. The packing would line the equipment bag and cushion the radio when the bag hit the ground. The bag was going to be hung on an equipment rack under the wing of the aircraft in which we would fly to Holland It would be released when we jumped. I packed the radio and a soldier from the air force hung it from the wing of our aircraft  I carried my individual and personal equipment in a musette bags hanging in front of my chest and from a web belt. I don’t remember what I had in the musette bag other than rations. I carried my folding stock carbine in a scabbard attached to my web belt on which I also carried a canteen, ammunition, a compass and a wound dressing. Shortly before boarding the aircraft we put on our parachutes, the main on our backs and the reserve on our chests.

During February 1944 I had
 attended jump school in
England. We were given
48 hour passes after we
completed the ten day
course. I went to London
and had this picture taken. 
 I was proud, full of
myself and ready to tackle
whatever came my way. 

Operation Market-Garden was on. Our battalion, the 321^st Glider Field Artillery Battalion, which as to land via gliders on D+2, September 19th was to be in direct support of the 506^th Parachute Infantry Regiment. In the interim, our Forward Observer (FO) team with the 3^rd Battalion of the 506th, whad the mission of adjusting fires of the UK XXX Corps Artillery. It consisted of Second Lieutenant Francis Canham, a replacement officer who had joined us after Normandy; Corporal Paul myself and another replacement, Private John Brasswell. Canham and Galant were to jump in with the commander of the 3^rd Battalion,while Brasswell and I were to jump with the executive officer. Canham and Galant were, by far, the most qualified Field Artillerymen in the team. I suggested to Canham that if his aircraft went down, the battalion would be left with Brasswell and myself as FOs. This was, to say the least, a less than desirable situation; far less than desirable. I pointed out that if anything happened to him, Galant was the best qualified to take over and that he should consider each of them riding in different aircraft. He saw the wisdom of this and selected me to fly in with him. Galant and Brasswell were to go with the battalion executive. Such was my contribution to the planning of Market-Garden.

It occurred to me recently that I had more time in combat than any of my comrades in our FO team. Galant had been wounded during his first day of combat in Normandy and I had gone up o replace him and, as a radio operator, made it through all of our combat there. Despite this I was less qualified than either Canham or Galant, both of whom were trained to adjust the fires of our battalion. That is what our team was there for. Brasswell was less qualified than I in that he was not trained to conduct the fires of our battalion and had seen no combat. Despite the lack of combat experience and the lack of some training on the part of my comrades and myself, I had lots of confidence in each of them and in our team. I was jumping into combat with the "A" team.  

After we boarded the pilots fired up the engines of the many C47s on the field that day. The roar was unimaginable. There must have been more than a hundred aircraft all with two

C47s lined up at Membury
preparing for takeoff.

engines roaring. We taxied to the end of the runway, got the signal to take off and the pilot gunned that ship down the runway. Even today on commercial aircraft I feel a charge when the aircraft accelerates down the runway and is soon airborne. It’s a thrill each time. It was different on that day, though. It was a thrill but I was off on my first combat jump and the adrenaline was racing through my body.  I was sitting on a bucket seat and just beside my ears those piston powered engines were vibrating fiercely and hammering, a sound no longer heard on the aircraft on which I travel. As we lifted off I probably said goodbye to England and its people, an England which had been so kind to me and which I was not to see again for 30 years. There must have been a special goodbye to Kathleen whom I was to miss during the next year on the continent. (See The Silver Summer.) But then, the Army did not send me to the ETO for its good social life. I knew that and was content. After all, I was in that C-47 because it was where I wanted to be.

September 17th was a Sunday, another beautiful day by which to remember an England of which I was growing fonder all the time.  Many airborne soldiers had made dates for the 16^th, a Saturday. On that evening we were locked into airfields and we could not let anyone know where we were. A lot of young women must have had evil thoughts about their dates on that Saturday, thoughts which were probably dispelled when on Sunday morning they saw the airborne armada thundering eastward. And so The Silver Summer was over and I was off to war again.


As the C-47 in which we were riding on the  September 17^th  gained altitude I turned around,

C47s in formation enroute to Holland

looked out the small window and saw many other C- 47's, along with ours, gather into formation. There was approximately 25 C-47's carrying the 3^rd Battalion, 506^th Parachute Infantry. Our pilot climbed for altitude through the clouds which were ever present over England. This time they were not thick but wispy. As we gained altitude we joined aircraft of other units and together we  made a formation which stretched to the horizon.

Canham and I were flying in with the commander of the battalion. He was our jump master and number one man in the stick. Number two was the battalion  operations officer (S3), Canham was number three and I was number four man. The battalion commander spent a lot of time standing near the open door while the S3 spent his time standing on the opposite side of the cabin. I don’t know what Canham was doing but I spent a lot of time praying. A chaplain had given me a small paperback book which contained some prayers which had given me comfort in times past and so I read some of this book. The S3 must have seen the concern in my face and when I looked up at him one time he smiled at me and winked. Two days later during the attack on Eindhoven  he was lying on a sidewalk in a pool of blood with a small hole in his head.

Our route to Holland  was over Belgium which was in allied hands. South of Holland we turned north for the final run to the drop zone at Zon. As we flew over Holland the Germans began firing anti aircraft shells and heavy machine gun rounds at us. When I heard that for the first time I asked the soldier next to me what it was. He calmly replied that they were firing at us with machine guns. I had heard them on the ground but never in the air.

Fifteen minutes before an aircraft is scheduled to arrive over the drop zone, the crew chief  notifies the jump master of that fact and the pilot turns on the red light just inside the open

It was a scene such as this in which the
commander of the 3rd Battalion, 506th
Parachute Infantry stood looking for his
check points as we flew into Holland.

door. The jump master orders the men to stand up, hook up, check equipment, and then  sound off for equipment check. When the pilot turns the light to green the jump master goes out closely followed by the rest of the stick. The crew chief gave the word to the battalion commander and the pilot turned on the red light. The battalion commander ordered us to stand up and go through the drill. We were one tense group of soldiers. I had been in combat but this was my first combat jump. However, some of these soldiers had not been in combat and would make their entrance via parachute. The battalion commander stood in the door looking for his check points so that he would know where he was when we jumped. The rest of us waited. Eighteen minutes later the crew chief came back and told the battalion commander that the navigator had made a mistake and that we were then 15 minutes out. When we heard that there were many unpleasant words for the navigator. Now we had to go through that awful wait. This time the

After the pilot turns on the green light we
move out of that aircraft quickly. Note how
close one jumper is to the one in front of
him. His quickness was heightened by the
knowledge that the aircraft might be hit
by German anti-aircraft fire.

navigator got it right and fifteen minutes later we went out the door. Paratroopers are always anxious to get out an aircraft but this time we were more anxious than usual. We could see puffs of black smoke made by  anti aircraft shells as they sought out our planes and exploded. Nobody wanted to be in an airplane when it was struck by an anti aircraft shell and so we were on each other's backs as we went out. I later found out that we had jumped at an altitude of 450 feet. I believed it because no sooner had my parachute canopy opened than I landed on the ground.

As soon as I landed I collapsed the canopy of my chute, looked around and saw Canham. I looked for our equipment bundle, found it immediately and attempted to untie the rope which held the opening closed. It was a tight knot and I was unable to open it so I took my knife from its sheath on my leg and cut the rope, opened the bundle and took out our radio and batteries. By then  Galant and Brasswell had joined Canham and me. The roar of the C47s overhead was loud. A few had been hit by German anti-aircraft fire and had fallen or were falling. Shell fragments from spent anti-aircraft rounds fell close to us. Any C47 that was shot down might fall near us. Both could be dangerous and so the drop zone was becoming an unhealthy place. We had completed the assembly of our FO team, secured our equipment and so we headed for the assembly area of the 3^rd Battalion in a portion of nearby woods marked with blue smoke.

 

There was a touch of euphoria in our group. None of us had the experience of mass jump

C-47s dropping their sticks over Holland. I
learned later that we had jumped at an
altitude of 450 feet. I thought that this was
right because I was on the ground no 
sooner had I gone out the door and
 my chute had opened.

during our training but we knew that we had just taken part in a successful one. Everything  went like clockwork. It couldn’t have been better. The adrenalin was pumping so much that it was only after we had been in the assembly area for several minutes that I noticed that I had sliced off a bit of my left thumb cutting the rope on our radio equipment pack. Canham found the battalion commander and we joined his command group. I placed our radio on my back and the batteries on my chest, I  hooked up the antenna and turned the power on. The mission of our FO team was to adjust the fires of British XXX Corps Artillery in support of the 3^rd Battalion. Other FOs from the 321^st were with the other two battalions.  I attempted to check into its net but was unsuccessful. We thought that perhaps we were out of range of the British and so turned the radio off to conserve batteries. When we were closer to them we would try again.
The 3^rd Battalion was the reserve battalion for the 506^th Parachute Infantry Regiment. The regiment’s mission was to seize the bridge over the Wilhelmena Canal in Zon. Colonel Robert Sink, the regimental commander had given the 1^st Battalion the mission of securing

This is the bridge at Zon before the war.

the regimental objective. As soon as 15 - 25 men came into the battalion’s assembly area they were sent south through the woods. Just before they arrived at the canal they were to swing left and move on the bridge and capture it before the Germans blew it.  Major James L. LaPrade, the commander,  had the battalion on the way in 45 minutes. Major General Maxwell Taylor, the division commander, accompanied the battalion. Meanwhile the 2^nd Battalion had completed its assembly and on Colonel Sink’s order moved south on the Zon road toward the bridge. We in the 3^rd Battalion followed. On the road to Zon we again tried to contact the British on the radio but were unsuccessful.

Note: Both La Prade and Canham would be killed in Noville on 19 and 20 Dec 44 respectively. They had been outstanding leaders.) 

The 1^st Battalion should have been at the bridge before the 2^nd Battalion but it was delayed

by fire from a group 88mm guns. The guns were silenced and the advance continued. Because of this delay the 2^nd Battalion arrived to within 50 yards of the bridge just as the 1^st Battalion came within 150 yards from the flank. At that moment Germans blew the bridge. Just about everything but the center pillar was gone. A moment after the bridge blew LaPrade, Lieutenant Millford F. Weller and Sergeant Donald B. Dunning came running up, took a look, dove into the water and swam to the other side.

Dutch civilians give information to
Colonel Robert L. Sink (center with map),
 commander of the 506th Parachute Infantry.

Meanwhile, our FO team moved south on the Zon road with the 3^rd Battalion. It was typical of any approach march. Some forward movement interspersed with many stops. During this Canham told me to take the radio to the Division Artillery (DivArty) communications section and see if its members could repair our radio. The DivArty headquarters was in a wood about one-half a mile west of the road. They were unable to fix my radio and thought that it had been damaged in the drop. This was probably right as we had not had any special packing for such a sensitive radio as the SCR 610. I asked for a replacement and they looked at me as though I were playing with 51 cards.

I hustled back to the road and found my guys as they were continuing the march with the 3^rd Battalion. The 3^rd Platoon, Company C, 326 Airborne Engineer Battalion (the battalion’s parachute company) had jumped with the 506^th. It quickly threw a wooden foot bridge across the canal. The bridge was not as stable as a permenant bridge and only a few men at a time could cross on it. This caused slow movement throughout the column of the 506th.

At about 9:00 P.M. darkness came and it found us tired. We had gone to bed late on the 16^th and had been up early on the 17^th. Since the jump we had been on the move and carried that heavy radio and extra batteries, in addition to our normal equipment. As we moved through Zon I could hear on the radios of the residents, the BBC broadcasting news of the success of the airborne operation. After having the bridge blow up on us and our slow movement south I didn’t understand what was so successful. Certainly the 1^st Airborne Division at Arnhem was not meeting with success. There really wasn’t much success that first day. Perhaps the BBC meant that the drop had been successful. For the 101^st it had been.

Because of the slow movement and my fatigue whenever we halted in Zon I moved to the side of the road, leaned against a window of a house and rested the bottom of the radio on 


This is the SCR 610, weight 
approximately 26 pounds.
Riggers had made canvas
bags in which to carry the radio
when on the move.  One bag, on
my back, contained the radio
 while the batteries were in a
bag on my chest..In addition
 to the radio I carried m personal
 gear in a musette bag.
 

the window ledge. This took the weight off my shoulders but didn’t relieve my fatigue and several times to it I dozed and I woke up while I walked down the road. We finally crossed the bridge and moved off to the right of the road into a drainage ditch where we fell asleep immediately. This was a violation of that sacred  rule, “Dig in for the night.” Canham was a careful leader and I can’t understand why he did not insist that we dig in.

While we were moving south from our assembly areas, the Guards Armoured Division, the lead element of XXX Corps, had broken out of its bridgehead over the Meuse-Escart Canal. While initial resistance was stiff, it had advanced to Valkenswaard by 7:30 PM and had halted for the night along with the Royal Engineers who would construct a Bailey Bridge over the Wilhelmina  Canal to replace the bridge which the Germans had blown. On the 18th the Guards Armoured had advanced to the south bank of the Wilhelmina Canal and Royal Engineers began the assembly of a Bailey bridge to replace the blown bridge. It was completed on the morning of the 19th and at 6:45 AM elements of the division crossed the canal 33 hours behind schedule.

On the morning the 18^th the 3^rd Battalion was the lead battalion for the seizure of Eindhoven. Our FO team was with the 3^rd Battalion and we were much closer to XXX Corps Artillery but could still not contact it. Since we were not able to direct its fires Canham decided to make certain that the houses the lead elements of the battalion had by-passed in the early stage of the advance did not harbor any Germans. The radio I carried was too heavy for me to be going into and out of houses and so I stayed outside each house as Canham, Galant and Brasswell went in. They would clear the ground floor. If there was an upper floor they went up and cleared that. If there was no stairway to whatever was above the ground floor they would open the trap door with a pole. In order to see the floor they would find something on which Canham could stand and poke his head into the opening or else one of the others would hold Canham up while he looked around. I thought that all it would take for Canham to have had  a short combat life was a for any German up there to fire at him when he stuck his head up. However, I doubt that any German wanted to sign his death warrant in that manner. Unfortunately, three months later Canham was killed when he did stick his head up to look out a window in the second story of a barn in Noville, Belgium, just north of Bastogne.

Dutch civilians mingle with soldiers of the 
506th Parachute Infantry as they move into
Eimdhoven.

The initial resistance to our advance was from small groups enemy. Despite this crowds of Dutch civilians lined the street as we moved into Eindhoven. They crowded close to us, in some cases, hindering our movement. We were stopped once and started a conversation with a Dutch girl. This went on for a few minutes until the battalion began to move out. Canham, who was carrying a sub machine gun turned around. As he did so the barrel of the gun struck the girl lightly on her buttocks. She gave a small cry and laughed. Canham turned around and saw what had happened. His face became crimson with embarrassment. He apologized, turned and moved out. As I walked down the street I looked back and saw Galant talking with the girl. He was probably making arrangements to see her that evening if we were in the area. It would not be unlike him.





Sometimes when civilians mingled with
soldiers a German bullet or shell would
come screaming down the street and the
civilians would seek cover leaving only
soldiers on the street.

Close in to Eindhoven the German resistance took the form of two 88mm guns. Colonel Sink ordered the 2^nd Battalion to move off to the left and deal with the 88s. Soldiers of the battalion  put both out of action. While we were still unable to contact XXX Corps Artillery with our radio, the 506^th regimental headquarters did contact Headquarters XXX Corps. Late in the morning the 2^nd Battalion secured the center of the city and for the rest of us it was a cake walk as we moved into the city.

For two days I had carried 26 pounds of radio and batteries in order to contact British XXX Corps Artillery. Our radio had tested OK before I packed it but now did not receive or transmit after the heavy landing it made on the DZ north of Zon. Our mission of adjusting fires of British XXX Corps Artillery was not accomplished.

Our FO team moved back to Zon and from the roof of the school house we watched the 

Two gliders, on the final of their approach,
prepare to land. If another glider
flies under or in front of them, they
might have to revise their landing
spots.

reinforcements for D + 2 arrive. This was the third day on which elements of the 101^st made the approach to the drop or landings zones. By now the Germans knew the direction of the approach and had brought in additional anti aircraft artillery in order to defend the route. Their defense was effective as they shot down many aircraft. Engraved on my mind is the picture of one C47 which was hit on the approach to the drop zone. By the time it arrived over the drop zone the port engine was on fire and the fire was spreading. The pilot held the aircraft steady as the troopers came out. After that he climbed for 100 feet and then went  into a spin and crashed in a ball of flames. None of the crew got out. Once the gliders cut off from their C47 tugs they had to make their landing. Given the low altitude at which they came in the pilots didn’t have much time to select a landing place, set up the landing, make their approach and land. A few of them collided as they were on their final approach. Some glider pilots were hit with flack and lost control of their glider. Passengers were wounded and had to be evacuated as soon as they landed. Most of the gliders made crash landings. It was not a pretty sight.

We watched some of the landing and then moved to the landing zone. As we were on our way to the assembly area of our battalion, the 321^st, we passed a photographer taking pictures. There was a smashed glider nearby with bodies mixed with the wrecked glider. Canham suggested to the photographer that he take a photo of that scene. He replied that we don’t take pictures like that. So much for truth in army photography. We soon located our battalion and Canham reported to Lieutenant Colonel Edward Carmichael, the battalion commander, and we were back home with our battalion

.

The English Silver Summer

The English Silver Summer

Jay Stone

Sergeant, at the time Private

321st Glider Field Artillery

101st Airborne Division 

 

After the 101^st Airborne Division returned from Normandy in mid July of 1944 we were all given a weeks leave. I opted to spend it in Edinburgh which, unfortunately, I found to be a

This is Princess Street, Edinburgh,
 Scotland, one of the most beautiful 
shopping streets in the world. It is,
 of course, a picture taken
after the war.

three night town. Several other soldiers of the 101^st felt the same way and so we went to a nearby Army Air Force airfield and asked for a flight to London. Within two hours the AAF had rolled out a C47 and we were on our way to London to spend four nights. London was more than a four night town and I regretted my initial choice of Edinburgh. Not to mind, this was my first leave after 18 months in the Army and I did enjoy it. As it happened it was my only leave.

 

When we returned to our base camp at Whatcombe Farms in England the work-a-day life of soldiers getting ready to return to war began. There were no major exercises, no service practice on Salisbury Plain and no training jumps or glider rides. There was training in loading the gliders and making certain that the loads remained steady in flight. Lessons had been learned about glider employment in Normandy. The big lesson was that every glider landing was a crash landing on which loads not only shifted, but could come smashing forward and wipe out the cockpit and the pilot. The lesson was that glider loads must be even more secure than they had been so they would not come crashing forward during a landing.

 There were major personnel changes in the battalion. Just after we left for Normandy many replacements arrived at Whatcombe Farm to await our return. Battery B had a complete shakeup in the officer ranks. Only one pre-Normandy officer remained. We lost the much respected Ben Skinner as battery commander. He went to battalion as a liaison officer and was replaced by the S2, Fred King, who led us to Berchtesgarten and VE Day. B. Hoff Knight was promoted from assistant executive officer to executive officer. Big Jim Davis, our old exec, was transferred to battalion headquarters as the motor officer, John Jordan, with whom I had gone to jump school and served as a forward observer (FO) in Normandy also left us for the giddy heights of battalion where he was appointed Assistant S2.  None of these changes affected the efficiency of the battery. Our battalion had effective officers who knew their jobs. They performed admirably no matter what their assignment was. In addition, there was no change in the non-commissioned officer leadership. They were the heart of our battery and all remained in place until VE Day. 

The most significant change for me was the assignment of a replacement, Second Lieutenant Francis Canham, to the battery as reconnaissance officer, vice Jordan. With  this, the core of Battery B FO team was formed: Canham, Paul Galant and myself. From time to time a fourth man was added but we three remained together almost until Canham’s death at Noville five months later. A couple of other officers were assigned to the battery as assistant executive officers - read Forward Observers (FOs) - but it would be five months before I had anything to do with any of them.

Paul and I were close. He and I, along with Lieutenant Johnny Jordan, were the only members of B Battery who had gone to jump school. After we returned from jump school in February of 1944 we trained as an FO team on exercises with the 506^th Parachute Infantry. Paul been in the battalion for a year before I joined it in November of 1943. He was very intelligent and that was coupled with street smarts honed on the wrong side of Pittsburgh. He was in the instrument section and knew what he was doing.  He had attended a parochial elementary school in which Polish was spoken in the morning and English in the afternoon. His ability in Polish enabled him to speak with many of the displaced persons from eastern Europe we met after the war was over. Paul was inclined to go off on his own: usually when he met a woman. He would not devote much time to meeting one but if, by chance, one came along, he was off. Paul knew and did his job well but he was not a conformist. We all had our own minds but most of us were willing to humor the Army and its ways. So was Paul - most of the time. He stayed just this side of major trouble

The weather that summer was glorious. I am at a loss for words to describe it: Use your favorite description of the perfect English summer.  I don’t remember much about training, there must have been some taking place but it couldn’t have been much. After all, we went to the airports three times for missions to the continent, two of which were scrubbed. With this coming and going, along with the loading at the airfields, there wasn’t much time for training in seven weeks. Somehow there was time for a social life and the major portion of my memory of that summer is of the social life.

The social life for most of us took place in Oxford about 20

White's, our pub, was located down
the street from the Oxford Town
Hall where dances were held.

miles to the north. Each Tuesday and Thursday evening after dinner, trucks took those with passes there.  On Saturdays we left at 1:00 PM. Those times spent on pass were all too short. By the time we arrived in Oxford it was 6:30 P.M.  The bells of a church in Oxford rang the hours and when we heard them ring at 11:00 P.M. we ran for the trucks. On Saturday we usually arrived in Oxford at 1:30 P.M. This made for a reasonable amount of time on pass.

Most of us who rode those trucks had known each other since November of 1943 when Wendell Byrne and I joined the battalion. Wendell was a quite person with a wry sense of humor. His comments on a few well chosen situations usually brought a laugh and in some cases broke tension. He was one of the few jeep drivers in the Detail Section and drove the forward observers up front and left us. No forward observers in the 101^st Airborne rode in jeeps while with the Infantry. However, if we needed some equipment, if there was some special food available or even mail for us, Wendell would bring it forward.

Walter Mitchell had been in the battalion from its beginning in 1942. He was short, slender, well built, handsome with black hair and a temper with a short fuze. He also knew what he was doing with respect to Field Artillery but did not suffer those whom he considered to be fools gladly. One time in Normandy he was serving in a forward observer team led by one of our battery officers. He thought that the lieutenant did not know where he was going. Walter told me that if the lieutenant had told them to go down a certain trail he would have shot him. I don’t know about that but I would not have placed any bets either way.

Harry Stearns was the only sergeant in our 25 man detail section which was led by a staff sergeant, Les Sellers. He was the wire sergeant and responsible for wire communication within the battery and to battalion. He was able to socialize with us on pass and still maintain his position as a leader. Harry was a good humored fellow who enjoyed laughing. He was also the only other man in our group who was willing to make the effort to meet girls. We had so little free time that the others felt that it wasn’t worth their time. They could invest a lot of time and end up with nothing; This was time they could have spent with the rest of the group drinking - a poor trade off.

F. E. Stearns was a wireman who was willing to let events carry him along. We got along well but other than one phenomenal event in Austria, I don’t remember much about him. The reason that the event was phenomenal was that it was cast against a fellow who never drew much attention to himself. After VE Day our battalion was on occupation duty in the small village of Grossgmain, Austria. There were many displaced persons there and some of the women were attracted to American soldiers. One Saturday afternoon F. E. walked down a road on the way to his quarters leading a horse by the bridle. An attractive - of course - woman sat on the horse. When they arrived outside of F. E.’s quarters she got off the horse and went inside with him. Women had been in our quarters but I never saw one arrive in such a manner.

In Oxford on Tuesday and Thursday most of our group would head for our pub, White’s, next to the city hall on the High Street. If I didn’t have a date I’d be in that group. By the time we unloaded from the trucks and walked up to White’s it would be 7:00 P.M. The pubs in wartime Oxford were jammed with American servicemen, a few British servicemen and women and fewer civilians. We were usually standing three or four deep in front of the bar. In a way this was good because when you finished a drink there was no instant refill. You had to work your way through the crowd to the bar and then wait for the bartender to serve you. This cut down on our consumption of alcohol and the amount of money we spent. The most popular drink for Americans was beer and, for those who had acquired the taste, bitters. I didn’t like either and so usually had a gin and orange. My love for the taste of scotch was years in the future. We usually spent the night there talking and looking around - always looking around. Sometimes there was a dance in the Oxford City Hall and some of us would go there. These dances and those at the American Red Cross were the best places to meet girls. Some had good luck at these places.

On Saturday our afternoon arrival allowed for a more leisurely pace. We had an hour to spend at White’s which like all pubs closed from 3:00 P.M. until 6:00 P.M.. This left a large void in our day. Once White’s closed we would head for a café on the second floor of a cinema down the street from White’s.  It was impossible to purchase a bottle of whiskey but one of our group knew where to purchase Whiskota, a six ounce bottle of a vile tasting liquid which the bottler claimed was scotch and soda. We would take the Whiskota to a cinema and order cups of coffee all around and, if available, something to eat. We kept the Whiskota under the table. After we finished the coffee we would surreptitiously bring up a bottle and pour the Whiskota into the empty coffee cups. After a while the floor under the table was littered with empty bottles. Management must have noticed this but choose to ignore it. I didn’t drink much - perhaps a couple of bottles of the hated Whiskota - but if I did not have a date, that was my Saturday afternoon fate.

At 6:00 P.M. many had had too much to drink and didn’t care where they went. Some went to the Red Cross for dinner, others back to White’s and who knows where else. Oxford did offer other diversions.

One Sunday during mass at the Black Friars in Oxford I saw Kathleen Wells again. We had met at a dance given by my battalion on the night of Christmas Day, 1943 and had

Black Friars is a Roman
Catholic degree granting
institution of Oxford University
Daily mass is celebrated
there in the chapel. I thought
myself a great sinner in those
days and before mass I normally
went to Confession. The chapel
was often a quiet refuge for me
 away from the intensity of life
in those days.
 

dated for several months after that. Just before we went to Normandy she had thrown me off the bus. It was at this dance that Johnny Jordan met Margot who would become his wife.  Kathleen and I enjoyed seeing each other and began dating again. While the weather was wonderful, spending time with Kathleen is what made the summer delightful for me. She served in the British Army, as a member of the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS), the British equivalent of the Women’s Army Corps (WAC). There were many ATS women stationed in Oxford quartered in large houses. Kathleen’s quarters were on the north side of Oxford off the Banbury Road. Fortunately for me the truck parked on the same side of town and so it took me only five minutes to get from her place to the trucks.

If Kathleen and I had a date during the week I was off the truck and headed for her quarters in a flash. (This was in the days, recall, when ladies did not wait around for men but expected them to call for them at their home.) We usually went to the movies once a week. At other times we took a quiet walk or attended a dance at the city hall. Saturday was, for me, more relaxing. Although Kathleen was sometimes on duty Saturday afternoon, we usually managed to spend more time together than we did on a week day evening. We were not into the pub scene but might spend a short time in one, have a gin and orange and go on our way.

When I did not see Kathleen I was stuck with my friends. I don’t mean to be derogatory by that but given the choice of spending time in Oxford with fellows whom I usually spent 24 hours a day or with Kathleen, well, there was no choice.

After I left England for the continent Kathleen and I wrote to each other and she sent me a couple of packages containing some of the items that our PX system did not supply. (What the PX system in the ETO did not supply to combat units would fill convoys of trucks.) We had no playing cards in the Detail Section and so when the package containing a couple of packs arrived in Holland she was Miss Detail Section for the week. I never got back to England but after the war we continued to write for a while until there seemed to be no reason for it

The major event of the summer at Whatcome Farm was “The Attack of the GI’s.” The Farm had been a horse farm and had a large barn which was used as the battalion mess hall. We ate from our mess kits which we rinsed in boiling water in 40 gallon cans (GI cans) before we moved down the chow line and were served our food by the cooks and KP’s. After eating we went outside, scrapped the residue from our mess kits into a GI can and cleaned our mess kits in three other GI cans filled with near boiling or boiling water. The first can contained hot soapy water and with the brushes provided we scrubbed our mess kits clean. Next we dipped them several times into the first rinse and then into the second and final rinse. We took this washing seriously because nobody wanted a case of diarrhea more commonly known as the GI’s.

One morning about half of the battalion did come down with the GI’s. The fact that so many soldiers had the GI’s

The battalion mess hall is on
the right foreground. The
garbage can with stack is for
soldiers to rinse their mess kits
before entering the mess hall.
Further to the right is the
kitchen and the dining area.
It was in this kitchen that "The
Attack of the GIs" took plaace.

indicated that the cooks and/or KP’s had been amiss in cleaning the pots and pans or in the preparation of food. In any case, we all pointed fingers at the cooks. The battalion commander, strangely enough, was a fan of the cooks and pointed his finger at the troops. He concluded that the reason for “The Attack of the GI’s” was that the troops had not cleaned their mess kits properly. One half the battalion, at this one meal, had failed to clean their mess kits properly. Of course, this was preposterous but he was the battalion commander and for the next week sergeants supervised our cleaning of our mess kits. The story speaks for itself.

As for out masters, First Allied Airborne Army and British Airborne Corps,  they spent their days and many nights dreaming up missions for us. Each time a mission was planned, our comrades on the ground on the continent overran the objective. Our masters planned sixteen operations, two of which came close enough to execution so that we went to the airfields, were briefed and were only hours from takeoff when they were canceled. In the first, Operation Transfigure the101^st would be dropped and landed south of Rambouillet. The 506^th, of which the 321^st would be in direct support, was to block the Paris- Chartres road. The earliest possible D-Day was 19 August. On the 17^th, Third Army overran Chartres and the mission was scratched.

Before we could leave the airfields Major General Maxwell Taylor, the division commander, visited each field in order to address his troops. Our FO teams were out there with the 506^th when General Taylor mounted the platform. His words - and I am not making this up: “Men, as you know our mission has been canceled and I can see the  in your eyes.” This man must have had phenomenal vision. I couldn’t see his eyes and I have no idea into whose eyes he was looking; neither mine nor those of the riflemen around me. We were enjoying that beautiful English summer, and many of us were also enjoying the company of His Majesty’s most attractive subjects. We were ready and willing to go back to war but nobody was disappointed that were not going at that moment. Perhaps the regimental commander, Colonel Robert Sink was disappointed.

When the airborne elements of the division went to the airfields for this, the first scratched mission, the seaborne logistical tail boarded ships, crossed the English Channel and landed at Omaha Beach. Thus, they thus entered the campaign for Northern France and were awarded a battle star on their ETO ribbons for this. And so the logistical elements of the division participated in all five campaigns in the ETO while the combat elements made it for only four campaigns. When, after VE Day, points to establish priority to go home were computed, the seaborne elements of the division had five more points than did the combat elements and some seaborne members went home earlier than did some of the combat elements. Such were the fortunes of war.

The next operation for which we went to the airfields was Linnett I, in which we would have dropped in an area near Tournai, Belgium. I was worried about the jump for this operation. In my training at the division jump school in February of 1944 I had made five jumps with no equipment: bare bones.  This time I was to jump not only with my weapon and equipment but with my 50 pound radio, packed into a canvas bag, strapped to my right leg. I had never seen, let alone trained with, this equipment. In order to get out of the aircraft when I came to the door, I had to shove my right foot - the one with the 50 pound radio strapped to it - out the door. The prop blast would do the rest and drag me after my leg. There was a release attached to the canvas bag which I was to pull as soon as my chute had deployed. The bag would then hang from my leg by a 20 foot cord.  Of course, I had to use the cord to let that bag down slowly so that  it did not take my leg with it. As soon as the radio bag hit the ground I was to go into my parachute landing fall. I did not like this one bit. This would truly be on the job training. My concerns went for naught as the British Second Army overran our objective and we continued to enjoy the English summer and the company of those attractive subjects..

The next trip to the airfield finished off my Silver Summer. Operation Market-Garden was on. Our battalion, the 321^st Glider Field, was to be in direct support of the 506^th Parachute Infantry Regiment. Our FO team, operating with the 3^rd Battalion of the 506th, consisted of Canham, Galant, myself and a replacement, John Q. Brasswell. Canham and Galant were to jump in with the commander of the 3^rd Battalion while Brasswell and I were to jump with the executive officer. Canham and Galant were, by far, the most qualified Field Artillerymen in the team. I suggested to Canham that if his aircraft went down, the battalion would be left with Brasswell and myself as FOs. This was, to say the least, a less than desirable situation; far less than desirable. I pointed out that if anything happened to him, Galant was the best qualified to take over and that he should consider each of them riding in different aircraft. He saw the wisdom of this and selected me to fly in with him. Galant and Brasswell were to go in with the battalion executive. Such was my contribution to the planning of Market-Garden. Take off for D-Day was 10:15 A.M. on September 17^th. I knew that this would be a go when at dinner on the 16^th we were served steak and fruit cocktail.

 The latter was a delicacy in the ETO and when it and steak - which never made our menu - were served, while I wouldn’t say that we were being fattened up for the slaughter, the air did take on an ominous quality. My feeling was reinforced when the C47s, that would carry us to Holland, began landing as dinner was ending. Those pilots wanted their share of the steak and fruit cocktail.

 

The mission of the 101^st Airborne Division was to seize several bridges and towns and hold open a stretch of road,

Eindhoven to Uden. This was a 16 mile portion of the road, Eindhoven to Arnhem, over which British XXX Corps would travel in order to reach the British 1^st Airborne Division which had the mission of seizing the bridge crossing the Rhine River at Arnhem.

 
The mission of the 506^th was to secure the bridge over the Wilhelmina Canal at Zon and then seize Eindhoven. The 1^stBattalion was given the mission of securing the bridge. As

The bridge at Zon - pre war -
which was to be seized by
 the 1st Battalion,
506th Parachute Infantry

15 to 20 soldiers gathered in its assembly area, off the drop zone at Zon, the battalion commander planned on dispatching them through the woods south to the bridge site at Zon. This demonstrates that the commander had much faith in the ability of the soldiers of the battalion to, in effect, assemble on the march.  It also demonstrates the importance the commander placed on seizing that bridge at Zon. The 2^nd Battalion was to assemble in the woods off the DZ and then, on order, move toward Zon. Our FO team was to be with the 3^rd Battalion which, after assembly, would be in reserve.

The next day, the 17^th, we were up early, drew our parachutes and other equipment. I drew an equipment bag and packing for our radio and batteries. The packing would line the equipment bag and cushion the radio when the bag hit the

Paratroopers wait to board a
C47 for the flight to Holland
September 17, 1944

ground. The bag was going to be hung on an equipment rack under the wing of the aircraft in which we would fly to Holland It would be released when we jumped. I packed the radio and a soldier from the air force hung it from the wing of our aircraft. I carried my individual and personal equipment in a musette bags hanging in front of my chest and from a web belt. I don’t remember what I had in the musette bag other than rations. I carried my folding carbine in a scabbard from my web belt on which I also carried a canteen, ammunition, a compass and a wound dressing. Shortly before boarding the aircraft we put on our parachutes, the main on our backs and the reserve on our chests

After we boarded the pilots fired up the engines of the many C47s on the field that day. The roar was unimaginable. There

Twenty five paratroopers
sit on bucket seats during
the flight to Holland,
September 17,1944

must have been more than a hundred aircraft all with two engines roaring. We taxied to the end of the runway, got the signal to take off and the pilot gunned that ship down the runway. Even today on commercial aircraft I feel a charge when the aircraft accelerates down the runway and is soon airborne. It’s a thrill each time. It was different on that day, though. It was a thrill but I was off on my first combat jump and the adrenaline was racing through my body.  I was sitting on a bucket seat and just beside my ears those piston powered engines were vibrating fiercely and hammering a sound no longer heard on the aircraft on which I travel. As we lifted off I probably said goodbye to England and its people- an England which had been so kind to me and which I was not to see again for 30 years. There must have been a special goodbye to Kathleen whom I was to miss during the next year on the continent. But then, the Army did not send me to the ETO for its good social life and I knew that and was content. After all, I was in that C-47 because it was where I wanted to be.

September 17th was a Sunday, another beautiful day by which to remember an England of which I was growing

The English countryside is
always beautiful but it was
particularly beautiful during the
wartime summer of 1944.

fonder all the time.  Many airborne soldiers had made dates for the 16^th, a Saturday. On that evening we were locked into airfields and we could not let anyone know where we were. A lot of young women must have had evil thoughts about their dates on that Saturday, thoughts which were probably dispelled when on Sunday morning they saw the airborne armada thundering eastward. And so, The Silver Summer was over and I was headed to war once again.