#WWIIPOD- 1st Marine Division Marines on the "Canal".. Guadacanal; 1942 (WWII Photo of the Day)

Marines take a bath in the Lunga River while a machine gunner pulls security during the Guadalcanal campaign, 1942. 

USMC Photo

#WWIIPOD

The LOS BANOS RAID PART 1; February 23, 1945~~ 70 Year Anniversary~~ As told by K. Mishler and 1st Lt. John Ringler, B Co., 511th, 11th ABN

B Co./511th/11th Airborne suiting up for the Los Banos Raid February 23, 1945

     The Los Baños Raid was a feat of magnificent planning, training, execution, risk, and payoff.  It was a complex operation with the potential outcome of high casualties; even massacre.  This operation engaged US Rangers, US Airborne, and Filipino Guerilla fighters in a precision-timed "silent" operation.  With about 10,000 Japanese troops in the hills surrounding the Los Banos prison camp, the rescue of 2,000+ weakened and starving civilian internees was an operation that has since been taught at US military academies as an example of precision and tactical planning and excellence.  This success (ZERO internee casualties, 11 allied casualties, and about 80 Japanese killed) of this raid was overshadowed by the battle for Iwo Jima and the raising of the two American flags on Mt. Suribachi on the same day in February 1945.  
     The US and guerilla fighters only numbered about 2,000 and were rescuing 2,100+ prisoners.  They needed to sneak in across a lake, have one company of troopers jump to a minuscule jump zone, attack and silence all guards, and liberate and evacuate the camp in broad daylight; all while not alerting the attention of the nearby approximately 8-10K Japanese troops in the surrounding hills.  It was radio Silence the whole time, with a diversion "attack" nearby, potentially drawing the Japanese forces away from the camp.  Again, the chances for extreme losses and even massacre were very high.  All troops; guerillas, rangers, and Airborne had to be ready to execute their mission at EXACTLY the right times, and there was NO room for error, as one failure of each facet of the operation could spell high losses for the rest of the troopers.    

     

"B" Company of the 511th, 11th Airborne was picked to jump for the mission.  They had been in the Pacific since mid-1944 in New Guinea training for the Leyte landing.  After the fall's bloody and grueling Leyte campaign, the 511th had jumped at Tagaytay Ridge on February 4, 1945; working their way towards Manila.  By mid-February they were heavily engaged at the south side of Manila, fighting along the interlocking pillbox "Genko Line" for the Battle of Manila.  
     From this point on I will repost "The Los Banos Raid" written by 1st Lt. John M. Ringler of his experience commanding "B" Co. for the Los Banos Raid operation:  

THE LOS BANOS RAID  by John M. Ringler The Mission The Company "B" mission was only one part of the over-all operation. I was in command of Company "B" since mid-January, 1945, which gave minimum time to become acquainted with all the personnel in a new unit in combat. We were pulled off the front line on 21 February, 1945 for the Los Banos mission on the 23rd of February. Prior to this operation, it was the battalion commander who assigned the day's operation or mission to his company commanders. For this operation, Lt. Col. Edward H. Lahti, the Regimental Commander, arrived at my company CP, as we were fighting for Fort McKinley. He stated, "You will report to the Division Commanding General and I will take you there." A thousand things can race through your mind as to what I or the company did since our 3 Feb. 511th RCT jump on Tagaytay Ridge that the Div. CG is directing my presence. At this time, I had not heard anything about Los Banos. The Regt. CO stated that he didn't know why the CG wanted me. Upon arrival at the Div CP, the G-2 and G-3 met Lt. Col. Lahti and myself. They directed us to Major General Swing's office, where I reported as directed. It was at this time that the CG informed me that "B" Company would jump on Los Banos to rescue the internees from the Japanese prison camp. He commented that we could take heavy losses of troops and internees if we were not successful. After discussing the major points of the operation, the CG asked if there were any questions. I had none at the time and was unaware that other units would have a major role in the operation.  The Briefing The CG then directed the G-2 and G-3 to provide a complete briefing on the information they had available to them. It was at this time that I was informed of the other elements that would make up the task force to accomplish the mission. As the air- borne commander, I was permitted to select my own drop zone from the photos that the G-2 and G-3 provided. They also provided a very detailed and complete intelligence summary on the enemy gun positions, diagrams of the camp facilities and a daily routine of activities of the Japanese guards. This information, which was very vital, was provided by Peter Miles, an American internee who escaped from the prison camp a few days earlier. After many hours of briefing and planning, I returned to my unit, which had already been relieved from the front line action. After discussions with the Ist Bn. CO Major Henry Burgess, he attached the Hq. Co. Light Machine Gun platoon, under the command of Lt. Walter Hettlinger, to "B" Company to provide extra manpower and fire power. The company only had a strength of 80 plus personnel prior to the reinforcement. I was briefed that the Ist Bn., (minus "B" Company), with attached units, would travel by Amtrac across the lake (Laguna de Bay). The 88th Glider Infantry Regiment (minus its 2nd Bn) would establish the diversionary force to hold the enemy in their positions. The Filipino guerrilla force would outpost the outer edge of the prison camp to prevent any possible escape of the Japanese force. "B" Company, plus the LMG platoon, would revert to control of the 1st Bn. CO, upon their arrival at the camp. The Division Reconnaissance Platoon would complete all prior reconnaissance of the camp area and be in position to attack the enemy positions upon the opening of the first parachute at 0700. Lack of sufficient winds on the Laguna de Bay caused considerable problems for the Recon platoon in their water crossing, which delayed, but did not prevent, their movement to their objective areas. My plan was to drop at a low altitude, and as close as possible outside the camp to surprise the Japanese garrison, and to avoid a concentration of enemy ground fire. The three rifle platoons would assemble on their own leaders and move directly to their objective areas to engage the enemy. The platoon leaders were briefed on their area of responsibility, and they in turn briefed their men. On the afternoon of 21 Feb., I assigned Lt. Roger Miller, with two enlisted men, to make a reconnaissance of the drop zone with the Recon Platoon and then return to the unit for debriefing and to jump with the company.

The Jump We spent the night of 22 Feb. at Nichols Field. There was no moon. The sky was clear in the predawn, as we put on full combat equipment, then our parachutes, and loaded with our crew served weapon bundles into nine C-47s, under the command of Major Don Anderson, 75th Troop Carrier Squadron. The short flight in tight formation was unopposed by Japanese fighter planes or antiaircraft fire. As we approached the drop zone, smoke was visible. I was jumpmaster of the lead aircraft. At dawn, 0700 hours, we jumped and all landed on the DZ without casualties. Due to weather conditions, Lt. Miller and the men were not able to return for the jump. They rejoined the company at the drop zone. It was our own "B" Company men who released the smoke grenades as the planes approached the DZ. The Recon Platoon, although encountering difficulty, was able to arrive at their assigned target areas to engage the enemy gun positions. The enemy was initiany concentrating on the action from the Recon. Platoon, which permitted "B" Company to assemble and rapidly move into the prison camp. After a rapid assembly, there was only minor enemy resistance, which was eliminated. Upon our arrival inside the camp, the internees were very jubilant and excited as to the events taking place. After a rapid survey of the situation, our company started to assemble the internees for a rapid movement out of the camp. With over two thousand individuals, this became a turbulent mass of human beings. Trying to control them and keeping them in one place was almost impossible. It was at this time that some yelled, "Enemy tanks." We had to react to the alert to defend against possible attack. The noise that the individual heard was the Amtracs headed to our positions. Another problem occurred. Many of the internees did not want to leave their huts, or were returning to retrieve items left behind. To overcome this problem, I had Lt. Hettlinger take a detail and torch all of the huts. The arrival of the Amtracs again caused mass confusion in trying to control the internees.

The Liberation After the first Amtracs were loaded with the disabled, along with women and children, we were able to assemble all the remaining internees into a walking column, and head for the Mayondon beach area. As our unit guarded the moving internee column, we heard distant firing, indicating the enemy was probably sending elements to engage our troops. The battalion commander was successful in his decisive action to evacuate all of the internees and troops via the lake; thereby, saving the possibility of receiving heavy casualties, if we had attempted to fight our way through the enemy lines, All troops and the 2,147 men, women, children internee prisoners, including a few U.S. Navy nurses POW, arrived safely near Mamatid village, the original embarkation point for the Amtracs on the shore of Laguna de Bay. For this mission, I made a decision to jump at a much lower altitude than the normal 1,000 feet. This low altitude gave us less exposure to enemy fire and permitted a rapid assembly. Prior to this mission, each of the platoons had a Filipino lad with them for carrying ammunition, and they wanted to make the jump. After approving this request of the NCOs, they gave the three lads a quick course in proper parachute landing positions. I was not worried about them getting out of the C-47 aircraft, for I knew the NCOs would take care of it. If I had to make that decision other than during combat condition, I would not have given approval. This operation was successful due to the efforts of all units that participated. Failure on any one unit's part could have meant serious loss of lives for the internees, the guerrilla force and our own troops. This entire operation was completed on verbal orders. The written orders came after completion of the mission. One point of the operation that I have never understood is how could you have over two thousand persons in the target area and live fire coming in from four sides and yet not have a casualty within the camp. It is actions like this that makes us think of Who controls our destiny.  Courtesy of "WINDS ALOFT" Quarterly publication of the 511th Parachute Infantry Association and  http://www.thedropzone.org/pacific/Ringler.html

~~Written by K. Mishler with article by John Ringler  

Combat Infantryman's Badge- as told by Paul Fussel in "The Boys' Crusade"

     

Combat Infantryman's Badge or CIB

"One evening on Long Island, James Jones climbed willingly up to the attic to locate a box of war stuff his son had asked to see.  As Willie Morris reports Jones saying while he sorted through the ribbons and their attachments,

2nd Lt. Paul Fussell, 45th ID
Paris, 1945

'This one here, it's the only one we wore when we shipped home.'  He pointed to the replica of a rifle on a field of blue with a silver wreath around it.  'It's the Combat Infantryman's Badge.'

     'Why,' asks the boy, 'why is that the only one you ever wore?'

     'Oh shit, I don't know.  It was a point of pride, you see-- better than all the rest.  It spoke for itself.  It really meant something.  It was an unbroken rule.  If you wore any of the others, the men would've laughed you out of town, or maybe whipped your ass.' 

R. Kotlowitz's memoir cover, 26th ID

The difference is empirical.  The badge was awarded for being in ultimate danger, the ribbons for what somebody said about your behavior-- meaningless and probably corrupt testimony, as most infantrymen knew, having seen their battalion staffs piling up unearned honors.  The CIB you earned without anyone "putting you in" for it.  You knew, and the company roster knew, without anyone's agreement of ass-kissing, what you'd been through to wear it.  It was private, almost secret, telling would-be melodramatists, "Don't ask."  The CIB is the only thing pinned onto Robert Kotlowitz's jacket in the photo accompanying his memoir.  The silence is eloquent, like the modest it betokens."  

--Paul Fussell, "The Boys' Crusade", pgs. 102-103

PURCHASE Paul Fussell's "The Boys' Crusade" HERE

*In 1947 the US government authorized that any infantryman earning the CIB in WWII was automatically eligible for a bronze star.*

"TANK DRIVE IN FRANCE" Sgt. Walter Peters; article recovered by OldMagazineArticles.Com

In doing a little digging into the 2nd Armored in Normandy while reading Mark Bando's "Breakout at Normandy" I found this magazine article with 3 tense, emotional, and very detailed photos. This article was published in YANK Magazine on Sept. 29, 1944 and written by Sgt. Walt Peters.

Most photos don't instantly bring tears to my eyes, and a feeling in my gutt of extreme emotion, but the second one here does. The determination and exertion is clear on their faces, as is the stress and exhaustion. .. Dogface if I've ever seen it.

Here are the last few paragraphs of the article; read the rest via the link BELOW

*Article found via: 
http://www.oldmagazinearticles.com/WW2_2nd_Armored_Division_1944_World_War_Two_Article_pdf 


*Purchase Mark Bando's "Breakout at Normandy" HERE
or at your used bookshop of choice

'Flying Fortress Direct Hit' as told by American WWII correspondent Ernie Pyle, 1942, N. Africa

Ernie Pyle; Oran, Africa 1942

     "The airdromes were full of stories about freakish escapes from death, but the strangest story I heard was that of an airplane and its whole crew that disappeared in mid-air. 
     This was a veteran Flying Fortress crew.  Its members had been heroes on many missions over Europe.  They were leading a flight of three on their bombing run over a Tunisian port.  The two wing planes were flying close on either side, the pilots following the lead plane, and suddenly it disappeared right before their very eyes. 
     What happened was a matter of conjecture.  But it seemed very likely that an antiaircraft shell made a direct hit on the plane's bomb load, and that the whole plane blew to tiny bits instantly and just vanished.  Nothing was every seen except a little cloud of black smoke where the plane had been. Then the two other ships were flying alone.  One airman happened to be taking a picture at the very moment of the disappearance.  The film showed two planes and a puff of smoke between. 
     A direct hit setting off a plane's bomb load had never happened before in the American or British forces.  I think it must have happened to the Germans, however, for I remember a British artillery officer telling me two years ago of a high-flying German bomber disappearing in a flash while he was looking at it through field glasses. 
     Fellow fliers of the ill-fated American crew were naturally pretty blue over the accident.  But, as they said, when anything as freakish as that got you your number was just up regardless. And they went on with the war as usual."

-Ernie Pyle, "Here is Your War", p. 99

Purchase "Here is Your War" by Ernie Pyle HERE

#WWIIPOD- LAST POSITION- ARNHEM, September 20, 1944; "Colorised by Doug"

L/Cpl Paddy McGiven, Sapper Charles Grier and wounded Sapper Dick Robb all from B troop, 1 Para Squadron, Royal Engineers. This picture was taken at 1530hrs on Wednesday the 20th September 1944, in a builders yard near their last position held at the Van Limburg Stirum School in Arnhem.

#WWIIPOD

Colorised by Doug: colourisehistory.com

#WWIIPOD Pfc. LAROCK, Germany October 8, 1944

Pfc. R. Larock of E. Co., 119th IR, 30th Infantry Division, relaxes after a day of fighting by playing piano in a wrecked German beer hall; Germany 8th October 1944. 

KIA on 10 October 1944 and was buried at the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery and Memorial in Hombourg, Belgium.

#WWIIPOD

(Thanks to Nathan Tarr for posting this photo and info. onto WWII Pics site.)

Surviving a Patrol, Immendorf, Germany: December 1944-- As told by Roscoe C. Blunt, Jr., 84th Infantry Division

     A platoon leader, a typical 90-day wonder, came by and asked for volunteers to accompany him on a reconnaissance patrol.  Still not very wise to the ways of the army, I volunteered.  He said we would be reconnoitering in front of CHARLIE Company.  I was to wear only a field jacket, wool cap and carry no weapons.  We were to scout the area on an intelligence-gathering mission and not engage the enemy; and if we were discovered, we were to try to escape rather than put up any resistance.      

     Not too pleased about infiltrating unarmed behind German lines, I stuck a knife in my boot, a P-38 German pistol under my shirt and a D-ration chocolate bar in a jacket pocket.  The lieutenant briefed me on the terrain we would cover and the password for the day.  We would be back before dawn he said.

Roscoe C. Blunt, Jr.; age 19, 1945

     ... At the edge of town we started to crawl, and soon I was covered with mud, nature's own camouflage.  I made my way through a break in the stone wall and over a hump on the ground.  It was a dead German.  I recoiled, but after my heart stopped pounding and I settled myself down, I continued on.  After a hundred yards or so, I was exhausted with mud down my back and thoroughly soaked by the rain when suddenly, I heard a whispered challenge, "Orphan." "Annie," I responded quickly.  It was a CHARLIE Company forward position.  I told him I would be out in front of the lines for several hours and to pass the word along in case there were any trigger-happy new replacements on the company line. 
     As I crawled, I instinctively felt before me for trip wires, mines, or barbed wire.  I tried to orient myself with landmarks I had studied on the map at the briefing, but I couldn't see anything.  It dawned on me as I crawled forward that I was lost, so I decided to abort the mission and crawl back to our lines.  Every direction I probed seemed strange to me and I couldn't find any landmarks.  Also, I hadn't seen or heard the lieutenant for quite a while.  An American machine gun opened up in the distance, but the echo distorted its direction.  I dug my face into the mud and waited for the firing to stop.
     Sensing a form before me, I hoped it was one of the buildings in Immendorf.  It turned out to be a huge tree.  I didn't remember any that large left standing back in Immendorf.  I had been crawling deeper into German territory and away from our lines in Immendorf.  I became aware of other forms and knew I was in a wooded area where, I hoped, I could get some shelter from the rain.  I crawled to the base of another tree before realizing the tree was a Wehrmacht sentry towering above me only inches away, huddling from the weather. 
     Sizing up the situation quickly, I realized I couldn't go back and I couldn't move forward or around him without being discovered.  There was only one alternative; to eliminate him silently.  Slowly rising to my feet with P-38 in hand, I hit him as hard as I could at the base of his skull.  He collapsed without a sound.  I took my knife, rolled him over and drove it into his throat with a vicious twist.  In the rain I heard a soft gargling sound as I plunged the knife repeatedly up to the hilt into his chest.  Stabbing him took all the strength I had in my arms.
     I lay on the ground panting, my heart again pounding in fear.  It was my first kill with a knife.  I had been baptized with the sentry's blood all over my arm.  I was near sheer panic, but I had to find a way to get away from there as fast as I could.
     "Wer ist da?" (Who is there?), a muted voice called out.
     "Es ist nur mir" (It is only me), I answered in frightened desperation. "Ich musz pisse." (I have to piss.)
     "Sei ruhig" (Be quiet), the voice admonished.
     In a rush, my breath came back, for I had been holding it for what seemed like five minutes.  My mind became twisted with terrified thoughts.  Daylight was starting to come on and I remembered a dead GI I had seen who had been found by the Germans with a German pistol in his possession.  They had rammed it down his throat and fired it, blowing the back of his neck off. 
     I didn't want to be captured with a P-38, but I hung onto it anyway.  At least if I had to, I could give it a fight as long as the eight-round clip lasted.  My chances of making it back to my lines were growing slim and I forced myself to face my dilemma. 
     I crawled into a dried-up brook bed and waited, trying to figure a way out of my predicament.  Bushes on both banks offered  excellent cover that I hoped would buy me some time.  In the pre-dawn I could make out a German bivouac with men washing, shaving and cleaning their weapons about 150 feet away.  From their routine manner, it appeared they had not missed the sentry, yet. 
     I could see a tank, two .88s, stockpiles of ammunition and supplies and a large group of soldiers digging in.  They had slipped in during the night and apparently were planning to defend the area.  This information was needed back in Immendorf, but there was no way to get there and no one to give it to. 
     Later, the early morning sun warmed me slightly and started drying my soaked uniform.  About noon, I tried to break off pieces of by D-ration and soften them in my mouth without being seen, but the brook bed was only about a foot deep. 
     As I watched the Germans, a commotion started and two of them came into the bivouac area carrying the dead sentry.  I heard the word "Patouille" (patrol).  They were unaware the sentry's killer was still only a few feet away and, fortunately for me, they didn't bother to search. 
     At the sight of the dead sentry, a wave of nausea came over me.  I quickly scratched out a hold in the gravel, placed my face in it and vomited up pieces of the D-ration I had been eating.  They didn't hear me.  I decided to wait until nightfall and again try to make it back to Immendorf. 
     At dusk, I chanced raising myself up--hopefully still hidden by the bushed-- to search to Immendorf.  As I did so, a Mauser rifle shot cracked near me.  I slammed my face back into the gravel, angry I had given my position away.  The shot was only a German soldier shooting as a rabbit supper. 
     With each call of nature, I could not move, not even roll over without being seem by the Germans, so each time I was forced to wet my pants, the price I paid to stay alive. 
     I lift my head slightly, shooting quick glanced around the countryside.  Behind me to my left I could see rolls of defensive barbed wire, meaning the American lines had to be in that direction.  I waited until it was pitch black and started crawling.  My body ached all over from lying cramped in the ditch for so many hours.  I crawled as far as I could on my stomach and then scrambled to a kneeling position.  I wormed my way through the barbed wire, and thinking I was safe at last, stood up and started walking toward the town. 
     "Buck," a voice called out.
     I forgot, the password is changed every day.  "Orphan Annie" was no longer the password of the day.
     "Rogers," I gambled.
     "Buck," the voice repeated.  The outpost hadn't heard my reply.
     "Rogers," I yelled back.  "I'm an American.  I've been lost on patrol since yesterday.  I don't know today's password.  For Christ sakes, let me in."  
     "Buck," he yelled back for the third and last time before I knew he would start firing.
     I dropped to the ground and yelled, "You dumb son-of-a-bitch, I'm an American."
     "Advance and be recognized," the voice instructed.  I stood up and approached the outpost. 
     "What's your company?" he quizzed me.
     "Anti-Tank."
     "What's your company commander's name?"
     "Captain John Bowen."
     "Where ya from?"
     "Worcester, Massachusetts."
     "Where do the Red Sox play?"
     "Fenway Park, Boston."
     "OK. C'mon in," the sentry said, apparently satisfied. 
     "The password is 'Buckshot' not 'Buck Rogers,'" he told me.
     I had guessed incorrectly, and had almost been shot because of it.  I had crawled back through DOG Company's line, about a quarter mile off course from where I had started the night before. 
     The lieutenant had returned without me, giving me up for dead or captured.  When he saw me, he was anxious to get any information I might have.  I described what I had observed, even though I was confident the lieutenant would take full credit when the information was passed up to battalion.

American Infantry move past a knocked out Panther tank in Immendorf, Germany; Dec. 1944

     Then I wolfed down some food and returned to my billet to change uniforms and sack out for a few hours, only to find all my gear missing.  The squad, thinking I was dead, had divvied up my possessions.  Begrudgingly they returned everything, even my Christmas packages from home. 
     I was instructed to show company officers on a map the coordinates of the German position.  A few minutes later, the area was pounded by 105-mm and 155-mm howitzers.  They must had hit the supply dump, for I saw black smoke curling upward from where I estimated the German position to be. 

--INSIDE THE BATTLE OF THE BULGE, pgs 34-37,

Roscoe C. Blunt, Jr.

PURCHASE Inside the Battle of the Bulge by Roscoe C. Blunt, Jr. HERE

Near Beek, Holland- Operation Market Garden 1944: Dwayne Burns 508th PIR, 82nd Airborne

1 Lt. Polette, 508th, 82nd Abn

Up the road heading for Beek to counterattack the 3rd Battalion came what looked like an enormous slice of the German Army.  My view was limited through the trees, but there were more enemy troops than I had ever seen at one time.  They were walking along in three columns at route-step and they didn't even know we were right there above them. 

     A realistic guess would be that this was a battalion, maybe reinforced, or some other portion from a larger unit.  What really set it off was the staff car with the top down and some high-ranking officer riding in the back, acting like he was number one.

     Hollywood could not have created a better scene.  They had come right up the road toward us as if they had never heard of the American Army.

     With them right under our noses I found myself nearly afraid to breathe lest they hear me.  Since we were limited in numbers I thought maybe if we stayed hidden they would just pass on by and go into town where the 3rd Battalion plus F Company could show them a real good time.

Lt. Polette, probably at the Sissone Wishing Well 

     "My gosh, what are we going to do?"  I said. "There are so many of them." 

     Polette was right beside me but I didn't really know who I was speaking to.  I guess I was talking to myself, because Polette suddenly swing his Thompson machine gun off his shoulder.  I looked over at him and he turned and looked back.

     With a quick double shift of his eyebrows he said, "Let's go get 'em."

     His voice sounded so causal and his expression so smug, one might think we were sitting in a pub and were going to try to pick up a couple of girls at the next table.  I wanted to ask, "Get 'em with what?"

     Without another moment's hesitation, and even though we were greatly outnumbered, he took off down the hill.  I was still trying to ready my own weapon and join the run when Lieutenant Polette starting firing his first shots.  Now, it must be explained, all the troopers of F Company would have followed him to hell and back if the lieutenant said we could do it and would lead the way, so down the hill we went.  This action isn't in the books and remains unknown in war history, except for the few troopers who were there and survived, but it had to be one of the greatest classic battle charges of the European campaign.  

     There were only thirty or forty of us on that part of the hill, but there were several hundred enemy soldiers at the bottom.  Slamming down the hill, firing from the hip and screaming at the top of our lungs, we acted like crazed Indians on the warpath, and suddenly this hill was the Little Big Horn, with General George Custer waiting below.  

     Despite being few in number we had great willpower, and with each step, with each scream, our spirits became wilder.  The Germans we unleashed ourselves upon must have felt our energy.  They likely had sensed our determination and, not knowing our true head count, had surely visualized their own massacre.  Our advantage was the tree cover and the Germans were in the open.  The platoon was spread wide, and below it must have sounded like the gunfire came from the entire hill.  The Jerrys broke and ran like whipped puppies.  It almost looked like an organized move.  That is to say, they all turned tail and ran as one.  We started to cut down the hill at an angle and ran after them until we got to the road.  There Polette called a halt.  

     He shouted his orders, "This is as far as we go! Pick your targets."  He dropped down on one knee for better aim, and his Thompson jumped every time he cut loose.  

     I took a place at the roadway's edge and picked a target.  Down on the flats the Germans were running for their lives.  There was no cover.  All they could do was try to get out of our range.  There were so many of them I found it unusually hard to concentrate on one mark at a time.  

     Only one German seemed willing to stand and fight, and he was in the back of the staff car, madder than hell.  His driver had turned off the road and was gunning ahead of the rushing retreat.  The officer stood up, shouting and waving his arms, trying vainly to get his men to stop and reorganize.  But the soldiers had the bit in their teeth and there was no stopping them.  We urged them to continue on their way with a helpful repetition of small-weapons fire. 

     As the last Germans made his escape to a range of safety, we finally stopped firing and sat down to watch them finish their way across the flats.  Between the two sides, one could see scattered pieces of equipment and dead or writhing Krauts for a thousand yards.  The "devils in baggy pants"-- the German nickname for us paratroopers-- had scared them off again. 

     After a brief pause from our mad sprint down the hill, we withdrew back to the top and set up an organized defensive position in a pear orchard.  The view was good there.  We knew it was only a matter of time, however, until the Germans would regroup and start back.  Maybe this time they'd hit us with artillery fire.  But we figured they wouldn't try coming across the open flats again. 

"JUMP Into the Valley of the Shadow"- Dwayne Burns 

pages 121-123

PLEASE PURCHASE "JUMP" HERE:  www.amazon.com "JUMP"

Photo(s) Of The Day; Battle of Britain Pilots

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