Paratrooper ~ Vol.VII
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 10
It was a short trip back from Schwarzenberg to the American lines. I can't remember much about that first afternoon of freedom.
Most of the time I spent eating. Some of the fellows ended up at the aid station sick with stomach cramps. They had warned us about over-eating with our stomachs so small, but it had been so long since we'd had all we could eat that it was hard to hold back.
I don't remember being checked by a doctor after being liberated. I only remember going on sick call one time while in the service, and that was for a sprained ankle I received on a jump during training in Alabama.
We were asked by an officer in the artillery unit that liberated us if we had any wounds or ailments that needed treatment. The shrapnel I had received in the leg had healed up. My legs and feet were still partially numb from frostbite. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want anything to delay my returning home. We were told by the officer that the Army and the Red Cross had been notified of our liberation.
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Late that evening a jeep came flying into the area. At first I thought it might be the one that Smudin had gone off in at Schwarzenberg. I wanted to give him his things and find out if they had located the other POWs they went looking for.
It turned out to be two MPs with a German prisoner on the hood of the jeep. Before they could get stopped, some ex-POWs pulled the German off the jeep, and were about to kill him before the MPs could get them separated.
A colonel came running up and wanted to know what was going on. The ex-POWs told the colonel that the German was a medical doctor who had beaten them and mistreated many other American POWs.
The colonel said that he had received a list of Germans in this area who were accused of war crimes and who were to be arrested for questioning. This doctor was at the head of the list. The colonel told the MPs to take care of him.
They drove him off into the woods and two shots were fired. In a few minutes they returned. They told us he had made a run for it and they had to shoot him for trying to escape. I'm not sure if they were pulling our legs or not, but it seemed to satisfy everyone.
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The MPs marched us down a street in a nearby village. They went into several houses and gave the people 30 minutes to get out, so we would have a place to stay that night. We were so excited and had eaten so much we didn't get much sleep.
The house was a total wreck by morning. We were so keyed up I guess we had forgotten how to be civilized. The next morning I went to the orderly room to inquire about Smudin. No one seemed to know anything about him.
The first sergeant told me that the lieutenant had returned that evening, but then had left to go on patrol. He didn't know if anyone other than the driver came back with him or not. He said they had sent transportation back to Schwarzenberg to take the men who were left to a field hospital, and he could have gone with them.
I thought he would ask about me and his bag when he returned. I left his bag in the orderly room, since we were moving to another area where we were to go by trucks to an air strip for flight to Camp Lucky Strike in France, for processing and shipment back to the States.
We walked most of the day and went through several small villages. One of the villages had a building full of new German pistols. We carried all we could, knowing soldiers in the rear would give a good price for them.
The German civilians, knowing that the Americans or Russians would be taking over, had piled their private weapons in the street. There were shotguns and pistols of all kinds.
That evening we received our first hot food. They would only give us a small amount, knowing we had been eating K and C rations during the day. That evening someone found a tent that had boxes of frozen chickens in it. We carried a box to the woods and had a chicken roast. I don't know how many we ate, but it was too many.
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When I got back to my quarters, a lieutenant ~ who was the officer-of-the-day ~ came by to make sure that everyone understood the curfew and to see if things were OK. He asked some of the fellows if "Sgt. Isbell" was in this group, and they pointed me out.
I was sitting on the bed cleaning some new pistols (Lugers and P-38s) that I had picked up that morning in a weapons warehouse. I don't remember what we talked about unless it was the pistols I was cleaning. He asked me if I would like to go with him to check the guards. I took him up on his offer.
My stomach was so full that I needed the fresh air and exercise. While we were walking, he asked me if I would be interested in staying there a few days or a week, and pick up a few souvenirs to send home. At first I didn't understand fully what he was talking about. The lieutenant told me that one of the fellows in my group was going to stay for awhile, and had said that if they could use another man who knew the area around Schwarzenberg, to check with me.
I was wondering how the officer got my name. I asked him who it was that gave him my name. He said he didn't know, but the fellow thought I would be interested. He told me that he would like for me to stay, since I knew the area that had not been covered by Allied troops. He said he would get me a jeep and a driver with a mounted machine gun to scout the area.
I was to receive one-third of the souvenirs (loot), and he would get it shipped back to the States for me. He went on to say how many soldiers were getting rich picking up silver, gold, jewelry, antiques etc.
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I told the lieutenant that if he would let me have a jeep and driver for a day, I would scout the area from our lines to the Czechoslovak border to look things over, but I was afraid the Russians had already moved into the eastern portion around Schwarzenberg.
I told him I would give him my answer when I returned. He told me not to worry about getting into trouble. He said that if anyone stopped us for questioning, the driver had proper papers showing that he was on patrol and had picked me up along the way.
He said it would be a chance of a lifetime and I would be a fool if I turned it down. He said that I could try it one day, and if I didn't want to stay any longer, I could leave with the next group of POWs for the air strip. I had no stomach for looting and I certainly was in no condition to do any more fighting.
The Germans had their valuables hidden and wouldn't give them up without a fight. I guess a lot of the valuables came from their Jewish neighbors before they were hauled off to labor camps. That's beside the point.
All I wanted was to get to Schwarzenberg, to take care of some unfinished business, and then get on my way home.
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Early the next morning the driver and I left in a jeep. The driver, a corporal, was in on what we were doing. The jeep had a 50-caliber machine gun, and of course, we were well armed.
There were hundreds of people of different nationalities trying to keep away from the Russians. Many of them were from labor camps. The roads were so crowded it made traveling slow. We were afraid to travel off the road because of mines.
I told the corporal about the Nazi and how he had treated me and other POWs. I wanted to pay him a visit and was hoping to find him at his house. I made it clear that I didn't want him to get involved in what I was going to do. He promised he would keep his mouth shut.
We soon arrived on the outskirts of Schwarzenberg. I gave the corporal directions as we went through town. We saw only a few people. I knew that the Russians must be near, for all the refugees had moved out. It was very quiet and only the noise of the jeep broke the silence. It made me think of an old western town that had no law, and the bad men were on their way to destroy it.
As we were going up the road that ran beside the railroad, I gave the corporal directions that Pops had given me to find the Nazi's house. When we got opposite the track that we were repairing the last day we worked, I looked over to see if the rails had been replaced.
To my surprise I could see some bodies lying near the track. We stopped to take a look and found the three railroad men had been killed by gunfire. They came from Dresden, and had only been working a few days in Schwarzenberg. I wondered at the time who would have done that.
While Smudin was here visiting us, I asked him if he saw the three railroad men as he and the lieutenant were traveling in that direction looking for the other POW camps. He told me he didn’t remember seeing anyone working on the track going or coming.
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We got back into the jeep and started up the road. I told the corporal it would be best if I walked to the Nazi's house before we got too close, and I would let him know when to stop.
We had not gone far when we met a Russian patrol that was led by a woman officer. All of them had been drinking and were feeling no pain. They could see by my clothes that I was an ex-POW, and said something about it. They seemed to be happy to see us and wanted us to drink with them.
I shook my head when they handed me the bottle. You could tell they didn't like that, so I took a drink of the vodka. It nearly strangled me to death. I couldn't speak for several minutes. We couldn't make out what they were trying to say to us, and their attitude seemed to be changing.
I didn't trust them and was in no mood to play games. I could tell by the things they were carrying that they had ravaged a lot of houses in that area. The Germans did the same when they went into Russia ~ rape, kill, and take.
At this moment I realized my sole purpose for being there was gone. They were standing all around the jeep, so I told the driver in a low tone ~ "It's time we got the hell out of here." He gave it the gas, spinning us around and we were out of there. (I don't think we hit any of them, at least, I hope not. We didn't look back.)
When we got back to the company area, we told the lieutenant about the Russian patrol. I told him I didn't want any part of going back and wasn't in shape to do anything but eat and rest. My war was over and all I wanted to do was go home. He seemed to understand and asked me not say anything about what was going on. I agreed.
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In the morning after we had a good breakfast, we left on trucks for the air strip. We hadn't gone 50 miles when we came to a roadblock. The MP (military police) told our officer, who was riding in the lead truck, that an ammunition dump less than a mile from the road was on fire and was due to explode at any time.
We could see the smoke from the burning dump. The MP said we would need to take another road that would be 30 miles out of our way, but it would be much safer than going by the burning dump. The officer told him we were headed for the airstrip and running late, and it would be necessary to take our chances at getting by.
The drivers were told to drive as fast as they could. There were bench seats on each side of the truck, but most of us were standing. I was standing behind the cab of our truck looking ahead at the smoke coming from the dump.
All of a sudden, a large column of smoke and debris rose over the dump area. At the same instant, our trucks left the ground and turned sideways from the explosion. I don't know how the drivers kept the trucks from turning over, but they did. I don't know how the drivers could see because it became dark as night from the smoke and dust.
Even though we were moving at a fast rate of speed, debris began to fall on us. Some of the men were hit with rocks or pieces of concrete, but no one was seriously injured. The driver of our truck suffered a broken arm from the steering wheel.
If I had known what an A-bomb was. I would have thought that was one. It rained debris on us for a long distance.
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Chapter 11
The plane (a C-47, like the ones we jumped from) was waiting when we arrived at the airstrip. It looked as if it had been through two wars. The motors sounded as if they were going to fly apart.
A large, fat crew chief was standing nearby as I started up the steps. I turned and asked him where the parachutes were. He told me they had been hauling cargo and only the crew had chutes.
I asked him if it wasn't against Army regulations to fly personnel without chutes. He grinned and said, "Not only no chutes, but no door, no seats and two motors that are on their last legs. You can get in or stay here."
As I was going through the door, I told him it would be a miracle if the plane got off the ground with a crew chief so fat they had to remove the door so he could get in and out. He came back with some smart remark. It was all in fun. Paratroopers and the airmen who flew our planes were always kidding each other.
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I don't know how many climbed aboard, but I remember that it was crowded. The rest of the group had to wait for another plane. We got off the ground ~ to my surprise ~ and everything was going along OK until we got over the Rhine River, when the pilot made a sharp bank to the left.
Several of us started sliding toward the open door. We grabbed the legs of others to keep from going out the door. Later we found the pilot just wanted us to have a last look at the Rhine River before we left Germany. For some of us, it was just about our last look at the river or anything else.
We landed at Camp Lucky Strike, near LeHavre, France, on May 11. It was good to get my feet on the ground again. It was a large transit camp for ex-POWs waiting to be processed for passage back to the States. We were told that it could be as much as a month or longer before we would be able to get passage back to the States.
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We were issued 50,000 francs (about $50) and were told if we wanted to try getting back to the States on our own it would be OK, but that we must report to Camp Kilmer NJ as soon as we arrived.
May 22 ~ We were beginning to believe it would be longer than a month before we could get on one of those slow Liberty ships for the States. All we had been doing was eating, sleeping, and being issued new clothing, etc.
A rumor had been going around for several days that General Eisenhower was coming to visit the camp. For once it was more than just a rumor.
I was in line for new boots when I heard some commotion. I couldn't believe my eyes! Ike was talking to soldiers as he came down the line. When he got to the soldier next to me, he asked him what outfit he was from. The soldier told him he was from the 101st Airborne Division.
Ike put his hand on the soldier's shoulder and said, "Damn! You were the fellows who made it possible for the boys to make the beach landings a success." The soldier said, "Yes sir, General, we did the best we could."
He then stopped in front of me and said, "Sergeant, what outfit were you from?" I told him ~ the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division.
With both hands on his hips he reared back, saying, "Hell, Sergeant, you were the boys who paved the way for the 101st Airborne Division."
"Yes, Sir," was my reply.
Ike knew that the 82nd and the 101st always had been rivals. I found out later that the soldier from the 101st had been wounded and captured while being surrounded by the Germans during the heroic Battle of the Bulge at Bastogne, Belgium. This was the coldest winter on record in Europe and we lost more men in that battle than we did during the invasion of Europe in June.
Ike continued on down the line, talking to most of the men. I got to sit at his table for lunch, but the table was so long I could hardly see him. After lunch he gave a speech, telling us how sorry he was that we had been held up from going home. He assured us he would speed things up ~ and he did.
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On May 28th. Lieutenant Walters, Sergeant Bill Byrum and I decided to go to Dieppe to see what the chance was of getting across the channel to England. I read in my notes that we walked through the town of St. Valery on our way to Dieppe, and I remember now, how wonderful it was to be free as we walked through town.
When we arrived on the outskirts of Dieppe there was a sign stating that Dieppe was off-limits to American soldiers. We didn't think ex-POWs counted, so we continued walking until we were spotted by two MPs, who took us back to the edge of town and told us to get back to camp ~ and said if we came back ~ they would put us in the brig.
After they left we decided that since it was getting so late, it would be best to go back to the town. If we got caught, at least we would have a place to spend the night. As we entered town it began to get dark. We were looking for a place to eat and spend the night.
We met some British soldiers coming down the street and asked them where a restaurant was and a place we could spend the night. They invited us to a party that the British were having. There would be plenty to eat and someone would help find us a place to stay.
Of course, we were more than happy to take them up on their offer. Not only were we hungry, but had not touched a girl in over a year. The party was being held a few blocks down the street. I recall an orchestra playing good old American music as we climbed the steps leading to the front door of this large building.
We followed the soldiers into a room that was full of other British soldiers and nurses. Some were American. They were dancing, eating, drinking and having a good time. We had only been there a few minutes when several American nurses came over with drinks and sandwiches.
We couldn't believe our luck. They gave us the VIP treatment, knowing we were ex-POWs. The nurses were stationed at the hospital in Dieppe. Later they helped us find a place to spend the night.
The next morning we went down to the docks, and learned we could get across the channel for a price, but needed more money, so we decided to head back to camp to see what the chances were of getting some money on our back pay. We were picked up again by the MPs and they were kind enough to take us back to Camp Lucky Strike.
We asked at camp headquarters about getting some back pay. They told us that they didn't have our records and it would be impossible. The francs that we had been given were all we would get until our records caught up with us.
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On June 5th, we left Camp Lucky Strike for LeHavre and went aboard the USS Benson (a Navy troop ship). The story goes that the skipper had been taken off his destroyer by orders from Ike. The captain was so mad he wouldn't come out of his cabin. He had given orders "full speed ahead" and not to slow down for anything until we reached New York.
On June 11, one year from the day that I was captured, we arrived in New York harbor. I was below deck and wanted to get on the upper deck to have a better look at the Statue of Liberty as we passed by. It was so crowded I had a hard time getting out on the deck.
After I made it through the door, it was impossible to see because of so many in front of me. I acted as if I was going to vomit on everyone and had no trouble reaching the rail (it wasn't all acting). I had been sick most of the way back.
The reason I wanted to have a good look as we passed the Statue of Liberty, was to think of Chuck and the remark he made as we stood watching the Old Lady when we left New York harbor for Europe.
Chuck made the statement, "I wonder if we'll be lucky enough to see the Old Lady again."
Chuck was killed on June 16. I was the lucky one.
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After disembarking, I was sent to Camp Kilmer NJ and from there to Fort Bragg NC. I was told my records had not caught up with me, but they would give me some money on my back pay and I would receive my regular pay each month through the mail while I was home on a 90-day furlough.
After spending three months in Lenoir and Raleigh I was to report to the Sands Hotel in Miami Beach for two weeks of rehabilitation. Billie and I met the first week I was home. Before I left for Miami, I tried talking her into marrying me and going along (if you were married you were allowed to take your spouse along at government expense), but she had another year of college and wouldn't take me up on it.
From Miami, I reported to Camp Plauche, near New Orleans LA for several months as a field sergeant. I was there long enough to spend (in New Orleans) all the back pay I had coming for the months I spent as a POW.
While I was there, I enlisted for another year. I felt it would give Billie and me some time in the service to see how we would like it. I always felt at home in the army and had planned to go to OCS and back into the airborne. Orders were cut for me to report to Fort Eustis VA as a supply sergeant for a training company.
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After Billie finished college, she and I were married on June 15, 1946. We lived in Newport News while I was stationed there.
I was accepted for OCS after passing all the exams. While waiting for orders to leave for Fort Benning GA, my discharge came up three months early.
This was a hard decision to make ~ stay in or get out. We couldn't see dragging any children that we were hoping to have all over the world, so we took the discharge on December 14 ~ on Billie’s birthday ~ and packed up an old 1933 Packard I had bought and left for Lenoir.
I feel we made the right decision. If I had stayed in the Army, I would have gone back into the Airborne and could have ended up in Korea and Vietnam.
I don't think our lives could have turned out any better than they have.
After a few weeks at home, we moved to Raleigh, where I had worked for The Raleigh Times evening newspaper before leaving for the Army in April 1942.
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I could never forget my experiences during those four years and eight months, some of which I would never want to experience again, but at the same time, I wouldn't take anything for having had the experiences and the opportunity of being able to serve my country.
I thank God that I was able to return to my loved ones and have this great country to live my life in freedom.
Countless young men died and many more were crippled for life. We must never forget the great sacrifice they made for us.
History will reveal for generations to come that the freedom we have today was not handed to us on a silver platter, but bought by the blood of our young men and women.
They must never have died in vain.
We must pray that all people of this world will some day have the freedom we cherish today.
Without freedom, life wouldn't be worth living.
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