Paratrooper ~ Vol. II
MY WORLD WAR II STORY
April 15, 1942 ~ December 14, 1946
© 1997 by Edward M. Isbell
507th Parachute Infantry Regiment
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Chapter 2
We left Alliance Air Base on Nov. 20, 1943, by troop train for the staging area at Camp Shanks NY in preparation for overseas.
We had a physical examination along with all kinds of shots. I had been having trouble with a wisdom tooth. The dentist told me it would have to come out. He shot my head full of novocaine, and for the next two days my head felt as if it would come off. ! believe he must have just finished dental school.
December 5, 1st. Sgt. Thomas, Chuck Lamson, two other sergeants and I managed to get passes for the big city of New York. We decided to have one drink from every bar on 14th Street. Most of the drinks were given to us. Well, do you know how many bars were on that street? The war would have been over before we could have covered them all. The last bar I remember was Jack Dempsey's.
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We found our way back just in time to get our stuff ready to leave for Fort Hamilton NY to go aboard the British troop ship "Strathnaver." I don't know how I carried my duffel bag and rifle feeling the way I did. When I got up the gangplank and over to the door leading down below, I waited until the stairway was clear and then I let everything except my rifle go flying down the stairs. Where they landed was my home until we anchored in Liverpool, England, on December 15. From there the regiment was transported to Belfast, Northern Ireland, on the American Liberty Ship "Susan B. Anthony" and by train to Portrush where we were stationed from Dec. 17, 1943, until March 11, 1944.
Ireland is a beautiful country. We were there during the winter months. The days were damp and cold. Our regiment still had not been assigned to a division at this time. We knew nothing of what our mission would be in the invasion. We didn't have the planes or equipment to make jumps while in Ireland, and with the days being so short, training was light.
Portrush is a small village located in Northern Ireland. An ideal summer resort, it had beautiful beaches, plenty of hotels, restaurants and pubs. The people were very friendly. Our company stayed in a hotel just a few hundred yards from the ocean. The only furniture we had in our rooms was a wooden bunk with a straw mattress. We had a fireplace and were allowed fires after duty hours if needed. I would like to visit Portrush again some day.
We traveled by ship to Scotland on March 11 and by train to Nottingham, England. The ride through Scotland was beautiful. Our regiment set up headquarters at Toilerton Hall (an old castle) near Nottingham on March 13, 1944. The officers stayed in the castle and the rest of the regiment in six-men squad tents that had wooden floors and a round tin stove in the middle. The first sergeant, three staff sergeants, Chuck and I occupied the tent next to the orderly room.
We slept on army cots and on cold mornings would argue about whose turn it was to light the stove. We were all good friends and had fun pulling jokes on each other, but when it came time for training we took things very seriously ~ no horse play. We knew the time was near that our lives would depend on it and on each other.
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We didn't make many jumps while in England. The ones we did make were night jumps. We went to an airfield and stayed over a week waiting for the weather to clear up so we could jump. On the last day that our regiment had the planes reserved, the weather cleared and we took off before dark with orders for everyone to jump regardless of the conditions.
We hadn't been flying long when the fog moved in. The red light was on and we were waiting for the green, when the jumpmaster turned around and motioned us to sit down. He went forward and told the pilot to take us back to the air strip ~ that is if he was lucky enough to find it. He also told the pilot he had seen some planes just below us in a break in the fog.
Our plane found its way back to the air strip. The fog was ground zero. As we were coming in for the landing we just missed a plane that had run off the runway and nosed up. Some of the planes strayed over London and the British came close to knocking them down with anti-aircraft guns. The ones that did jump landed all over England. It took days for the regiment to get back together.
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I went to Nottingham many times while we were stationed at Toilerton Hall. One weekend the regiment treated the people of Nottingham and the surrounding area with a feast and an air show. Some of the food that was served had not been seen by the British since the beginning of the war. It was a big treat for them and everyone seemed to have a good time.
There was one thing that wasn't counted on ~ It took a week to get all the girls out of the camp. Some of the troopers had put tents up in the woods and were keeping the girls supplied with food from the mess hall. During the next few days fathers and mothers came looking for their lost daughters.
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I was on pass in Nottingham one night. It was past time for the last bus going back to camp. It was about 1 a.m. and much too far to walk. I heard a jeep coming down the street, so I hid, knowing it would be the MPs.
When the jeep came around the corner, I recognized the driver. He had been in our regiment at one time, but transferred to the MPs. I ran out and stopped him. I asked him if he would take me back to camp.
"Sure, Isbell, get in," he said. He told me he liked being an MP and was glad he had transferred out of the 507th. I wasn't familiar with Nottingham so I didn't notice where we were going until he stopped in front of the MP station. He told me to get out ~ that I was going to spend the night inside. I couldn’t believe he was going to arrest me.
I was so mad I could have killed him. I started to jump out and run, but he pulled me back. Another MP came running out. I couldn't handle both of them, but I did get a few licks in before they carried me inside.
As I was standing in front of a lieutenant who was filling out the report, the MP who brought me in came up beside me and grinned. I swung at him. Just then the lieutenant stood up and he got the blow. The lieutenant didn't seem to get mad at me, knowing that I hit him by mistake.
The two MPs locked me up for the night. The next morning I was carried back to camp and turned over to 1st Sergeant Thomas. They told him I had been picked up after curfew and was charged with being in town after curfew and resisting arrest. They told him I had hit the officer in charge, but he was not going to press charges. The official charge would be sent to the 507th regimental headquarters for action.
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The next week we went out in the field for a few days. Since I was communication chief I was around our company commander, Captain Creek, most of the time. He didn't mention the trouble I was in until we started back to camp three days later.
We were walking along when he asked me what kind of trouble I had gotten into in town. Before I could answer, he said, "Never mind, I have the report on my desk and it looked like a Sear's catalog. I'll look at it when we get back to camp."
When we got back, our replacements had arrived from the States. Judging by the number, it appeared they expected us to have lots of casualties. Things were so snafu with trying to double-up to make room for them and getting ready to leave for the invasion, I don't think Captain Creek ever got the chance to read the charges. I didn't hear any more about it.
When we met at a mini-reunion in Kansas a few years ago, I asked Creek if he remembered the incident. He told me he didn't and that he didn't go back to Company E after the invasion jump. Since it had been 47 years, ! didn't think he would have remembered.
While stationed at Fort Eustis VA in 1946, I was interviewed by an army board when I applied for Officer's Candidate School. The MP report was not on my record at that time, and if it was added later, it was destroyed along with all my army records in 1975 in a fire at St. Louis MO.
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Chapter 3
We left Toilerton Hall on May 28, 1944, for the marshaling area at Fullbeck and Barkston-Heath, England, preparatory to the invasion of France. While at the marshaling area we went over our mission at least twice a day, using sand tables, maps, and pictures of our proposed drop zone.
Chuck went to the marshaling area a week before we did to set up a sand table for our company. It covered the area where our mission was to take place. Chuck was very good at this. The table showed the town and bridges we were to capture and where the German positions were located.
Photographs of our drop zone were taken each day. It was changed several times because the Germans were flooding all the open fields and placing poles with barbed wire strung between them in anticipation of our arrival.
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I couldn't believe how Chuck's personality had changed from the last time I saw him. His bunk was covered with candy, chewing gum etc. (goodies that were given to us by the Red Cross and others).
He must not have slept in days and had lost weight. It was obvious that he had not used his bunk. I recall saying something about all the stuff on his bunk. He told me to take anything I wanted ~ that he wasn't going to need it. I couldn't get him to talk about anything. All he seemed to want to do was look at the sand table. He just wasn't himself.
He had been studying our mission for days. l'm sure he could see what the Germans had in store for us better than we could. We all knew our chance of being a casualty was very high. Even if we survived our mission, our lives still depended on the beach landings being successful.
Chuck knew that many of us wouldn't make it back and that this might be the last time our original company would be together after several years of living together through the hardships of airborne training. Some would be killed, some wounded, some captured and others transferred to other units.
This was our first combat jump, so you would think that being killed or wounded would be your first concern, but worrying about holding up in combat, being so frightened you would disgrace yourself in the eyes of your buddies and reacting to the killing of another human, were our worst fears. These thoughts were foremost in our minds and there was no training that made these things easy to face.
We were getting ready to leave on June 4 but the invasion had been postponed from June 5 to June 6, 1944, because of bad weather over the channel.
Before we left to board the planes on the evening of the 5th, Captain Creek gave us a talk, wishing us the best of luck and ended with an outstanding prayer. I can never forget that evening as we walked to the planes. The cooks in our regiment were not going into combat, but they were lined up on both sides of the road ~ presenting arms ~ with tear-filled eyes as we passed through.
Even though they were non-jumpers, we thought as much of them as we did of each other. They were very special to us. We were always kidding them about the food they prepared even though most of the time it was very good. I know it was hard for them to see us go.
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Our takeoff time was 11 p.m. and we jumped in France about 1:30 a.m. on June 6, 1944 (D-Day) approximately five hours before the Allied armies stormed the beaches of Normandy, France.
We flew over the channel just above the fleet of 5,333 ships and landing craft. It looked as if you could step from one to the other. There were 9,210 aircraft that flew the channel that night. It was hard to realize that there were that many ships and planes in the world.
The executive officer, First Lieutenant Howard, was the second in command of our company and was the jumpmaster of the plane I was in. On the way over the channel he let each man come to the door to have a quick look. I would guess we were flying about 200 feet above the ships to keep from being picked up by the German radar.
It was hard to believe the armada we saw below. It made us feel a lot better knowing they would be hitting the beaches in a few hours to back us up. As we made our turn over Guernsey Island toward the coast of France we began to receive heavy anti-aircraft fire. After a few minutes we received the red light for us to stand up and hook up.
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As we waited for the green light that would let the jumpmaster know it was time to hit the silk, our plane was hit by flak in several places. The right motor was on fire. We were losing altitude and had no choice but to leave the plane before reaching our drop zone.
The green light came on and out the door we went, do or die. We missed our drop zone several miles. I don't know if the plane got back or not.
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I'll always remember the crew chief of our plane. He was a large fellow and very friendly. He stayed on the plane while we were at the marshaling area in England and I would go down every day and chat with him. He told me that he would never jump out of a plane even if it was going to crash.
As we were going into France that morning he sat by the door ready to pull the manual equipment release in case the automatic release failed. I often kidded him saying I was going to pull him out with me as I went out the door.
Knowing that our plane was losing altitude, we were in a big hurry to get out. With all the heavy and bulky equipment we were carrying, it was a matter of shuffling along until you could fall out the door.
As the trooper in front of me reached the door I reached over and slapped the crew chief on the shoulder and shouted, "Let's go! GERONIMO!" I shouldn't have done that because it startled him and in that split-second when my right hand touched his shoulder, I remember him throwing his head back against the plane.
I would like to have seen him again, but it might be better for me that I didn't. I hope the plane made it back. Those C-47s could fly with one motor and with a lighter load. Maybe they made it back safely. I hope so, anyway.
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The parachute flares shot up by the Germans put us in the spotlight. We were getting machine gun and rifle fire from the ground. I didn't think I was going to get down alive. Sergeant Thomas and I were the last out of the plane and were out of reach of the machine gun fire, but there were a few riflemen that were determined to hit me before I reached the ground. The bullets were cracking all around me. I could see the flash of their rifles as we were coming down and knew that I was going to land in their laps.
I went limp, dropping my arms as if I had been hit. I landed beside an apple tree in a cow pasture.
While trying to get out of my harness I realized my musette bag was missing. The buckle of the belt that secured it beneath my reserve chute broke on my opening shock. I lost my blanket, three days of K rations, a few clothes, toilet kit, cigarettes, an extra bandoleer of rifle ammo and some grenades.
As soon as I got out of my harness I loaded my rifle. We were told not to load our weapons until after daylight to keep panic from breaking out on the jump zone. I knew we had missed our drop zone and there were more Germans around than troopers.
I took cover by a hedgerow trying to get myself together when I heard Robert Winn, our company runner (message carrier) calling for a medic. I tried to locate him, but there was a flooded field between us, and by the time I worked myself around the water in his direction, he had stopped calling for a medic. I had no luck finding him. I found out later he had broken his leg landing and was captured.
We lost a lot of men in those plowed fields that had been flooded with water head-high and mud deep enough to anchor your feet.
When I saw Captain Creek 47 years later at Duane Gifford's home in Kansas, he told us he landed in one and had no idea how he managed to get out alive. He had to get rid of everything but his jump suit to keep from drowning. He went on to say that a fellow in our company was responsible for saving his life by keeping his trench knife as sharp as a razor. Creek told us that the sharp knife made it easy and fast to cut all the straps that would free him of the chute and equipment while his head was under water and feet stuck in the mud.
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I started looking for others. I found out later that many of the men in my plane were hit coming down. As the communication sergeant I had a radio and tried several times to reach one of the other operators in our company, but had no response. The only ones I remember in my plane were Lieutenant Howard, Sergeant Thomas, Pfc Winn, and Cpl. Huges. I never found out what happened to Huges. I know Lieutenant Howard got back to England, because letters mother had written me were returned, marked "missing in action" and were signed by Lieutenant Howard. Sergeant Thomas was commissioned second lieutenant on the field of battle and was wounded Jan. 12, 1945. Winn broke his leg on the jump and was captured.
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It was impossible to know where you were without being able to see landmarks. I did cover my head with my jacket and used my flashlight to look at my compass, but not knowing just where we had landed it was very little use. After daylight I began to locate some landmarks (roads, etc.) on my map and it looked as if I was about four or five from our drop zone.
Every way I moved there were Germans, mine fields and swamps. I didn't get far that day or have any luck finding anyone. Later that day I did find a bullet hole in my trousers that had gone beneath the right pocket where I was carrying a pound of plastic explosion.
I don't remember praying to God for help until the next day, but I'm sure I was depending on Him to protect me and give me the courage to do what I was there for. On this day, June 7, I was under heavy barrages by our Navy's 16-inch guns and bombers. I never prayed as hard in my life as I did that day. From that time on I depended on Him more than myself for guidance.
I saw several of our men who had been killed, as well as many Germans. Not knowing if our beach landings had been a success, I thought it best to head in the direction of the beaches. If the landings had failed, it wouldn't make much difference where I went. If this had happened, there would have been two US airborne divisions and a British airborne division (about 30,000 men) up the creek without a paddle.
I moved about a mile that night. The more I moved in the direction of the beaches, the more Germans there were. On the morning of the 8th, just as it was getting light, I saw a soldier standing about 50 feet from me. I sounded my cricket (all troopers had them for identification). He was a German and was carrying his rifle as if he might be rabbit hunting.
I had a grenade in my hand as I always carried one at night. You could see the flash of a rifle at night, but could throw a grenade and not give your position away. It also kept me from falling asleep ~ knowing I held a grenade with the pin pulled.
The German was too close for me to throw the grenade and my rifle was slung over my shoulder. We both just stood looking and waiting to see what the other was going to do. I don't know if he could see the grenade in my hand or not. If he had started to raise his rifle I would have thrown the grenade and taken my chances. I can't say how long we stood there, maybe a few seconds or minutes ~ who knows. Both of us turned at the same instant and ran in different directions.
It was just after this that I encountered some Germans who started shooting at me. They pinned me down in a ditch not far from a wall. I first thought they were troopers since their rifles didn't sound like German rifles. I raised a yellow flag on the end of my bayonet which we also carried for identification. It wasn't troopers, that was for sure!
We continued to fire at each other for some time. Each time I had to reload with a new clip I would move back a little at a time toward the wall. I finally got close enough to make a run for it. I thought about going around and getting to their backs, but I didn't know how many there were. I didn't feel like taking on the German army. I was beginning to think I was the only trooper in France.
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That night I came close to falling into a bunker with some Germans. I stopped when I smelled the odor of German tea. They drank so much of it their bodies and clothes reeked with the odor. I didn't know which way to go until I heard snoring. I knew if I was this close to their position there had to be some booby traps or mines around. I thought I had headed back the same way but wasn't sure, so most of the time I crawled on my stomach feeling for traps.
Just before daylight, as I was trying to work my way around their outpost, I heard a voice that was so clear I froze in my tracks ~ "Edward! Stop! Don't move" ~ it said. I froze and didn't move from that spot until I could see better.
As it began to get light, I saw a sign in German indicating a mine field. These signs were posted by the Germans for the protection of their own troops before the invasion and had not been removed. Just in front of me was a trip wire that would have exploded a personnel mine. God was sure looking after me and giving me the courage I needed to continue.
I know that when a person is in bad need of sleep, tired and most of all frightened to death, he can imagine seeing and hearing things, but this is the only time in my life I experienced anything like that. Several times I would think I saw a sniper in a tree and the longer I looked at it, the more realistic it would become. I guess we have all had experiences when we imagined hearing or seeing things, but I'll never believe I imagined that voice. Never did anyone call me "Edward" in the army, and I know it wasn't a German, so it had to be my Guardian Angel.
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On the 9th I found the bodies of four troopers who had been ambushed near an old barn. I threw a grenade in the barn and checked it out. The Germans had gone. I didn't know any of the troopers.
I was still heading for our lines. I wanted to get my map to our artillery so they could knock out the German targets I had marked. I could tell by the artillery that our troops had made the beach landings OK and were moving inland to cut off the peninsula. Our artillery and fighters were giving the Germans a fit. I know! I was there!
I was getting hungry by now. The only thing I had eaten since landing was two D-bars (candy) which I had in my pocket. As I mentioned earlier, my rations were lost coming down.
Early on the morning of the 10th a trooper from the 508th Regiment spotted me from an old building and came running out to meet me. He was as happy to see me as I was him. It was good not to be alone. He still had some K rations which he shared with me. I never thought K rations could be so good.
After talking it over, we decided to move up the road. He was about 50 yards ahead of me on the right side of the dirt road or path. A hedgerow bordered the left side that I was on. A shot was fired and I hit the ground. Looking up, I could see the trooper lying on his side. His rifle was in the path several feet from him. I knew he had been hit. I waited a few minutes to see if anyone was going to show up. No one did.
Knowing the shot came from my side of the road and the sniper had not seen me I moved back slowly to find an opening so I could get on the other side of the hedgerow. I found the sniper perched in a tree. I guess he was wondering if there were more troopers behind the one he shot. He was straining to see down the road when I shot.
After checking to make sure he was dead I hurried back to the trooper. He had been hit in the head and was dead. I stuck his rifle in the ground and placed his helmet on top. Taking his K rations and some ammo, I headed back to the old barn where we had met. I was scared, tired, and just wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find it all a bad dream, but sleeping was impossible.
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Late that evening I started out again. It was better to move at night. The Germans didn't get out at night unless they were on patrol.
I didn't get far, because of the activity on the main road (black top). A little of every thing: trucks, motorcycles, half-tracks, and soldiers were all moving back up the peninsula. I was hoping our troops were close behind.
I had taken cover in a hedgerow not far from the road. It was dark and hard to see what was going on. After awhile things quieted down. I must have dropped off to sleep.
When I opened my eyes, it was daylight.
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