Deliver Us From Darkness

by Ian Gardner

  Throughout most of D-Day, Sink had no idea where his 2nd and 3rd Bn were, as most of the 506th communications equipment had been lost during the jump. Despite sustaining the regiment’s highest casualties of the day, 3rd Bn’s drop onto DZ “D” was statistically the most successful. Although Wolverton was killed, a company-sized force, led by Capt Charles Shettle, 3rd Bn Operations Officer, managed to capture the bridges and thus establish the 101st Airborne Division’s right flank.

  By the morning of June 7, although Shettle and his growing force were still unable to communicate with the regiment, they were fairly confident of a successful conclusion to their mission. Ironically it was the continuing lack of communication that sealed the fate of the bridges, because at lunchtime the United States Air Force (USAF) arrived and within a few terrifying moments both bridges were destroyed. With the mission now effectively over, 3rd Bn was replaced by the 327th Glider Infantry Regiment, and withdrawn to the vicinity of St-Côme-du-Mont.

  On June 13, the Germans launched a fearsome counterattack and 3rd Bn (temporarily led by Capt Robert Harwick from H Company) rejoined the 506th to defend the nearby town of Carentan in an action that became known as the battle of “Bloody Gully.” From an American perspective, the battle was one of the most important and decisive actions of the entire Normandy campaign. The 101st was only expected to be in theater for seven days, but because of numerous difficulties encountered by VII Corps (which also included the US 4th Infantry Division), they remained in the region until the end of June, when Cherbourg was finally captured. The 101st Airborne suffered a staggering 4,670 casualties during the campaign, with 3rd Bn 506th experiencing the highest overall concentration. These original “Toccoa” men would be hard to replace, and the loss of LtCol Wolverton was deeply felt by all of those who had survived. During the second week of July 1944, the 506th PIR were withdrawn from Normandy and returned to the UK to rebuild and restructure in preparation for the next mission.

  Market Garden

  At short notice, on September 17, 1944, the 101st Airborne Division parachuted into the Netherlands as part of Operation Market Garden. The plan was to secure the main highway that passed through the city of Eindhoven – facilitating the advance of Gen Sir Miles Dempsey’s Second (British) Army towards Arnhem (which was some 40 miles away to the northeast). Dempsey’s troops had been fighting their way across France since the Allied landings in Normandy. By early September, Second Army had reached the Escault Canal in Belgium and due to the accute lack of intermediate seaports and railway lines, Dempsey was now able only to support a single tactical thrust by XXX Corps. Although the German Army put up a strong resistance in Belgium, Montgomery’s intelligence reports suggested that they were incapable of resisting another determined advance. Once the German front line had been punctured, Montgomery doubted that the enemy would have enough strength remaining to prevent a breakthrough.

  The objective of the 506th PIR was to capture four crucial bridges over the river Dommel in southern Eindhoven. Third battalion, now led by Maj Oliver Horton, spearheaded the advance on September 18, taking heavy casualties along the way at the villages of Vlokhoven and Woensel. Upon entering Eindhoven (the first Dutch city to be liberated) thousands of people spilled onto the streets to embrace the paratroopers, overjoyed after four dark years of Nazi occupation. A few hours later, when XXX Corps entered the city, the roads were so crowded that their tanks and vehicles were unable to get through. The celebrations were short-lived as Eindhoven was bombed the following evening by the Luftwaffe (German Air Force), causing hundreds of civilian casualties.

  With the capture of Eindhoven, the 101st Airborne thought that its mission was over. However, this was only the beginning of a bloody campaign that would see no quarter given by either side. Thousands of heavily armed enemy troops, trapped behind Allied lines, were reorganized into temporary fighting groups and sent on the offensive. Supported by Tiger tanks and self-propelled artillery the German Army began an audacious series of counterattacks along the road to Arnhem that became known as “Hell’s Highway.” Over the next two weeks, the 506th PIR were constantly called upon to defend the transport hubs north of Eindhoven at Sint Oedenrode, Veghel, and Uden.

  By October the regiment were sent further north to take over from the British 214th Infantry Brigade near Arnhem. Surrounded by water, “the Island” was the name given by the Allies to the Betuwe, the area of land northwest of Nijmegen between the Neder Rijn (Lower Rhine) and the river Waal. This would be the scene of a two-month struggle fought against determined German attacks amid heavy rain, flooding, and constant shellfire. The mission in the Netherlands would be one that the men would never forget. Many felt that their lives had been misused and wasted; Normandy had been bad enough, but this time the men from 3rd Bn had really been through hell … this is their amazing true story.

  1

  “Tell everyone I said hello”

  Rebuilding the battalion – August 1944

  For those members of the 3rd Bn 506th PIR who returned from Normandy in early July physically unscathed, it seemed like they had moved from one life into another. While in France, the 101st Airborne had forged a formidable reputation amongst the Germans, earning itself the nickname “butchers with big pockets.” There can be no doubt that the contribution made by the 506th PIR had only served to enhance the division’s reputation for brutal efficiency.

  “Home” for 3rd Bn was still the village of Ramsbury, which, despite all that the men had just gone through, remained tranquil and somehow unchanged. The only sign that there was still a war on was the sound of transport aircraft coming and going from the airfield (USAAF Station 469) located up on the hill. Situated in rural Wiltshire, Ramsbury was one of many beautiful hamlets occupied by the 101st Airborne Division before, during, and after Operation Neptune. Regimental Headquarters (RHQ) remained at nearby Littlecote, which was one of the finest examples of an early 16th-century Tudor manor house in England.

  Three weeks after D-Day, Assistant Regimental Adjutant, Capt Max Petroff, who had remained behind in the UK at Littlecote, told 3rd Bn’s American Red Cross Director, Miss Helen Briggs, known as “Briggsey,” not to ask any questions of the men who had been wounded as they arrived back to Camp Ramsbury from hospital. She did as she was told, until one of the wealthier ladies in the village invited Petroff to dinner.

  Afterwards Briggsey discovered that Max had casually announced the deaths of 3rd Bn commander, LtCol Wolverton, and his executive officer (XO – second in command) Maj George Grant. As she recalls: “It burned me up so much that I went to one of the local pubs, the Crown and Anchor, and paid three pounds and ten shillings for six bottles of spirits. As the guys returned, I took them back to my office and gave them a few drinks before pumping them for information. All the boys could talk about was Col Wolverton and his prayer in the marshaling area and the idea of a postwar reunion at the Muelbach Hotel, in Kansas City.” Col Wolverton was much loved by the men and had felt compelled to speak candidly to them before boarding the aircraft for France. Every single man in the battalion had been touched in some way by his incredibly poignant and emotive words.

  God almighty! In a few short hours we will be in battle with the enemy. We do not join battle afraid. We do not ask favors or indulgence but ask that, if you will, use us as your instrument for the right and an aid in returning peace to the world. We do not know or seek what our fate will be. We only ask this, that if die we must, that we die as men would die, without complaining, without pleading and safe in the feeling that we have done our best for what we believed was right. Oh Lord! Protect our loved ones and be near us in the fire ahead, and with us now as we each pray to you.

  Maj Oliver Horton had taken command of the battalion in Normandy on June 19, approximately two weeks after LtCol Wolverton’s death. Horton was a southerner from North Carolina, who had previously worked for Col Sink, as his Intelligence Officer (Regt S-2). Horton did not possess the same tactical ability as LtCol Wolverton, but neverth
eless he was a more than capable leader. “Major Horton was not one of my favorite commanders and I am certain that I was not one of his either,” reflected 1st Lt Joe Doughty, who had taken over command of G Company after the death of Capt Harold Van Antwerp on D-Day.

  Once again, Parliament Piece in Ramsbury was utilized as a home away from home for most of 3rd Bn’s junior officers. Affectionately known as “Lady W” by the Americans, widow Violet Wyndham owned the imposing manor house built during the reign of Charles I. Mrs Wyndham was only too pleased to welcome back the Americans, along with her 20-year-old son, Francis, who had joined the British Army in the summer of 1943, only to be invalided out with tuberculosis and pleurisy. To pass the time during his convalescence, Francis, an aspiring author, wrote his first novel, Out of the War. Although she was twice his age, Violet had a “soft spot” for 24-year-old 1st Lt Derwood Cann from Louisiana, who had recently been transferred from G Company to battalion HQ as Intelligence Officer (S-2). Cann had not made the jump into Normandy due to the fact he was in hospital with yellow fever.

  Before Normandy, 2nd Lt Bill Wedeking (Machine-Gun [MG] Ptn) had been sharing a room at Parliament Piece with Lewis Sutfin (81mm Mortars), and communications officer Glenn Barr. “All meals were cooked and prepared in the basement on M-37 gasoline-fuelled field stoves by our amazing catering staff T/5 Eugene Spangler, Pfc Irvin Schumacher, and Dean Baxter,” recalls Bill:

  As the officers’ dining room was located on the ground floor, all meals were brought up via hot food containers and served in “cafeteria-style” portions by the cooks. Although the menu was supplemented with “C,”“K,” and “D” rations, it always amazed me just how Spangler and [the] boys, as basic KP [kitchen police], were able to provide many appetizing and healthy meals using such simple ingredients. Mrs Wyndham did not eat with us in the mess but I have no doubt that the cooks surreptitiously provided her with meals in her private quarters. All paratroopers were issued one and a half rations per day because our training regime required superior body and muscle strength. It was also a weekly requirement for all airborne troops to “battle march,” at least 15 miles with full equipment.

  After Normandy, most of the field grade officers were relocated from Parliament Piece to other locations around the village as Bill Wedeking explains:

  When I took over the machine-gun platoon after Bob Machen was killed, I was sent to live with Mr Ron Rushen, at his cottage opposite the Crown and Anchor public house. Ron’s son was serving with the British Army in India, so I provided the old boy with coal, tea, soap, sugar, and other food items. Some evenings we would sit by the fireplace, without a care in the world, just listening to music. During that time, I got to know the owners of the Crown and Anchor, Ray and Jessie Young. I gave Jessie my silk escape map of France, which she made into a beautiful pillow cover. Ray was Irish and a gifted poet who gave me this verse, “Time may steal our years away – yes, and steal our memories too, but a memory of the past remains and half our joys renew.”

  Joe Doughty was also on the move: “Admiral Edmond Hyde Parker and his wife Helen offered their large sumptuous house, Ramsbury Hill, as a billet to myself and ‘Andy’ Anderson.” The Hyde Parkers were a delightful couple who treated Joe and Andy like kings. At 76 years of age, Edmond was no stranger to war, having captained a warship during the infamous battle of Jutland in 1916.

  After the capture of Capt John McKnight – taken prisoner at daybreak on D-Day after being misdropped over the village of St-Côme-du-Mont – Lt Fred “Andy” Anderson was now in command of I Company and recalls: “It was a real headache trying [to] look after seven officers and 160 enlisted guys, which was enough to drive a sane person crazy.” At the time “Andy” was deeply unhappy, drinking heavily and naively wished that Maj Horton would either promote him, or simply send him back to being a platoon leader. After all the good men who had been lost in Normandy, Anderson was bitter that some of his friends back home in Charlotte, North Carolina, were now in reserve occupations, or deferred from frontline service. “I was the only one who had little enough sense to want to share an active part in destroying the Axis and I felt that for us the worst of the war was over and from now on everything would be easier.”

  There were a number of changes to the battalion table of organization. All-round tough guy, 1st Lt Ed Harrell joined G Co as Executive Officer, before taking command of 2 Ptn. The most serious change affected H Co, where, much to everyone’s surprise, 1st Lt James “Skunk” Walker (previously Mess Officer) was given command, after Capt Robert Harwick was transfered to the battalion staff as Executive Officer.

  First Lieutenant Ivan “Moose” Mehosky (H Co 1Ptn) had suffered continuously in Normandy from a large cyst at the base of his spine. By late August it had become so infected that he could barely walk. So excruciating was the pain that Dr Stanley Morgan (3rd Bn Surgeon), sent “Moose” to a hospital near York to have the enormous pustule lanced. He was still in hospital when the alert came for Holland, so Rudie Bolte took over Mehosky’s platoon, nicknamed “the 40 thieves,” with replacement 2nd Lt David Forney as his assistant.

  Rudolph Bolte was a family man in his early thirties with piercing green eyes. An experienced lawyer, Rudie turned down a comfortable army posting in Washington DC to become a paratrooper. Lt Bolte was amiable, conscientious, and hard working but sometimes came across as an eager-beaver college sophomore type. Originally from Madison, Wisconsin, Rudie had been an accomplished athlete and musician, and a former “Golden Gloves” boxing champion. When he arrived at the road bridge on D-Day, Bolte had been dazed, confused, and totally disorientated. It later transpired that he had narrowly escaped death after a shell from one of the Allied warships supporting the seaborne landings had exploded near him. Soon after completion of the bridge mission, Bolte was diagnosed with concussion and sent to a field hospital. At the time he was also suffering numbness in his hands and feet, possibly exacerbated by a serious head injury sustained as a youth. Whatever the reasons for his evacuation, it did not sit well with the men from 1 Ptn, who felt that the lieutenant was beginning to show a lack of moral fiber. Before returning to duty (still suffering from a loss of feeling in his fingers and toes) Bolte was promoted to first lieutenant and given temporary command of 1 Ptn. Rudie desperately needed to regain the respect of the men and therefore declined to go to hospital for any further treatment.

  First Lieutenant Alexander Andros took over H Co 3 Ptn, from Peter Madden (now assigned to Greenham Lodge as Gen Taylor’s UK Control Officer). “It was my good fortune to have S/Sgt Harry Clawson, as my platoon sergeant,” recalled Alex. “Harry always wanted to be involved in the forefront of any action.” After Normandy, Clawson wrote a letter to his father, reflecting a deep concern for his wife, Melba, and their three children: “Dear Dad, I really don’t know why I’m writing this – I guess I’m just a bit worried about my family. I know Melba wouldn’t tell me if things were amiss but I think you would. Is she getting along OK? Enough money and such, what about her family are they giving her any trouble? Does she work too much and are the kiddies all right? I guess this is all uncalled for because I know if anything happened you would take care of it.”

  As the letter progressed, Clawson’s rhetoric comfortably slipped into ruthless retribution as he asked his father to deliver a clear message to his brothers and sisters.

  You can tell Delwin that I’ve got one for him and each member of his family. The same goes for Gerald, Bernard, Frank and Louise, as a matter of fact I have done the same for you, mom, Angeline and Rusty and as soon as I get upfront again, I’ll start counting some for my own family – it’s the biggest of the Clawson tribe now you know. This is a morbid subject, but I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t letting you down. Dad, war is just what you think it is (tough); so keep your sons out of it for as long as you possibly can. Tell everyone hello from me and let mom and Melba know what I have been doing on their behalf! Oh yes – my unit won a presidential citation, so I now feel like a Christmas tre
e with all these medals.* Keep things clicking at home and before long you will have to put up with me again, love Harry.

  Sgt Bob Martin (H Co 1 Ptn) returned from the 40th General Hospital after breaking his leg during a training jump before Normandy. Lou Vecchi and Don Zahn were both promoted to sergeant on July 7; and Johnny Hahn, John Purdie, Bob Hoffman, Jay Barr, and George Montilio were all made up to corporal.

  During the latter part of July, Pfc Raymond Skully from Cleveland, Ohio, was serving with G Co 2 Ptn when he received an unexpected transfer order. “I had just returned from London on furlough with my buddy T/4 Ed Sokolowski,” recalls Ray. “It was no secret that I had played the bugle so I was sent to Company HQ to replace Don Ross, who had been captured in Normandy. Although it was upsetting to leave G Co, I was excited to discover that the other aspect of my assignment was to provide close protection for Major Horton. The major treated me well and personally I think he was equal in professionalism to Col Wolverton.”

  Sergeant T/4 Bill Galbraith never hated the enemy: “I always thought that he was doing the same thing for his country that I was doing for mine.” After replacing Joe Gorenc in the S-3 department – Joe was still missing in action at the time – Bill was late returning from Scotland at the end of his post-Normandy leave as Galbraith recalls: “I’d met this wonderful girl, Anna Nertney, who invited me to stay with her family in Shotts on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Anna and I travelled into town every day where I bumped into a sergeant who was a gunner on a B-17 bomber, who promised me a ride back to England at the end of my furlough. Eventually the time came to go home and I went to the airfield as instructed. After stowing all my gear on the plane, which included a statue of St Patrick (that had been a gift from Anna’s family) I waited all day for the pilot to arrive. Eventually he turned up only to inform me that I couldn’t fly because there were no extra parachutes. In my rush to leave the airfield and catch the first available train, I left the statue behind on the bomber and always wondered if the crew kept it and if it brought them good luck throughout the rest of the war?”. Consequently, Adjutant and Personnel Officer, 1st Lt Alex Bobuck, reduced Galbraith’s rate of pay to that of an ordinary private. However, because the planning and operations role carried a high degree of responsibility, Bill was allowed to retain his stripes in an acting capacity.