After the 101st 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
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| 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 101st 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.
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 506th 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
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| 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 101st
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.
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| 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. |
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
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.
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| 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. |
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 the101st
would be dropped and landed south of Rambouillet. The 506th, of
which the 321st would be in direct support, was to block the Paris-
Chartres road. The earliest possible D-Day was 19 August. On the 17th,
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 506th 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 321st
Glider Field, was to be in direct support of the 506th Parachute
Infantry Regiment. Our FO team, operating with the 3rd 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 3rd
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 17th. I knew that
this would be a go when at dinner on the 16th 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 101st 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
1st Airborne Division which had the mission of seizing the bridge
crossing the Rhine River at Arnhem.
The mission of the 506th was to secure the bridge over the Wilhelmina Canal at Zon and then seize Eindhoven. The 1stBattalion was given the mission of securing the bridge. As
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| The bridge at Zon - pre war - which was to be seized by the 1st Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry |
The next day, the 17th, 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
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| Paratroopers wait to board a C47 for the flight to Holland September 17, 1944 |
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 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.
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| Twenty five paratroopers sit on bucket seats during the flight to Holland, September 17,1944 |
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 16th, 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.
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| The English countryside is always beautiful but it was particularly beautiful during the wartime summer of 1944. |
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