Fortified by key leaders from the Test Platoon, the 501st PIB finished training in mid January 1941. The battalion was jump-qualified and the officers and men were a fiercely proud group. However, there still was no insignia or distinctive uniform to distinguish them from ordinary soldiers.
Miley, realizing the morale implications of this shortcoming, issued orders authorizing his men to wear their jump boots with all uniforms and to tuck the trouser legs into the top of their boots so the entire boot could be seen. These visible boots, a unique source of great pride to paratroopers, always had a spectacular shine. He also authorized the distinctive circular patch of a white parachute on a field of infantry blue to be worn on the left side of the garrison cap.
Having no qualification badge for paratroopers, Miley enlisted the creative assistance of Lieutenant William P. Yarborough. Yarborough created a few designs from which they selected the paratrooper wings. He had the first set of 350 wings struck by the firm of Bailey, Banks and Biddle of Philadelphia and they were awarded to everyone in the battalion. Yarborough also designed a functional jump suit with slanted utility pockets so as not to be covered by the parachute harness. He redesigned the jump boots, making them more streamlined to prevent shroud lines from getting caught in the exterior buckle. His design reinforced the toe and cut the leading edge of the heel to a forty-five degree angle to prevent troopers from tripping on the metal tie down rings or structural ribs of a plane as they shuffled rearward to the door. While it was not against regulations for non-paratroopers to wear jump boots, the unwritten law was that only jump-qualified soldiers could wear these boots. Many a jaw was broken because a paratrooper caught a “straight-leg” soldier sporting unauthorized jump boots.
Having brought his command up to qualifying standards and developed training methods, equipment, customs and the insignia, Major Miley became an instant legend within the burgeoning airborne community. His battalion was the model for all that would follow. When the War Department authorized three additional parachute infantry battalions, Miley provided the cadre to lead them. He recommended a permanent jump school and the Army General Staff authorized the Provisional Parachute Group at Fort Benning in March 1941 to train and qualify paratroopers.
Beads of sweat were forming on Johnny’s face. He resisted the urge to wipe them off and kept his eyes straight ahead. He concentrated on what he had been taught about the airborne since being in jump school.
The May 12, 1941 cover of LIFE Magazine sported a grim-faced army parachutist wearing a football helmet. While it sparked interest and encouraged recruitment among civilians, it did little to accelerate growth and development in the military. What did get the War Department’s attention on 20 May 1941 was the German attack and capture of Crete.
Hitler authorized 25,000 troops for the mission, 13,000 of which were Fallschrimjaeger, parachute troops. Within two weeks they captured the island, which was heavily defended by 42,000 Allied troops. To the outside world it looked to be an impressive victory for Germany’s airborne forces. Unbeknownst to all outside the German High Command, the casualties were appalling. The Germans suffered 3,000 killed and 8,000 wounded, a forty-four percent casualty rate. Over 170 planes had also been lost. German paratroopers would never again be deployed as parachutists on a large scale. Crete was the death knell for the German airborne forces while ironically the impetus for the rapid expansion of the American airborne forces.
Paratroopers were getting a reputation as “best of breed” throughout the American army. Ambitious and highly motivated officers and fierce individualists sought out the airborne. Phone calls were made, old debts cashed in and the best soldiers found a way to cut the red tape and finesse a transfer into the elite battalions. They attracted officers like Captain James M. Gavin, who completed jump school in August 1941 and eventually wrote the first manual of the army’s airborne doctrine, entitled The Employment of Airborne Forces.
Then…Pearl Harbor!
With America at war, the old restrictions went by the wayside. While new equipment and more men would not appear overnight, there were no longer arbitrary limitations on what could be done. On 30 January 1942, the War Department authorized the immediate activation of four Parachute Infantry Regiments (PIR) from the battalions already formed. The Army Chief of Staff had also decided to transform two existing infantry divisions, the 82nd and the 101st, to airborne.
By war’s end, Army Airborne Command eventually created fourteen Parachute Infantry Regiments, four independent Parachute Infantry Battalions, ten Glider Infantry Regiments, twelve Parachute Field Artillery Battalions and nine Glider Field Artillery Battalions. Most of these units along with jump-qualified medical and engineer formations were assigned to one of five full-strength airborne divisions.
Living up to the rich traditions of the elite airborne put great pressure on new trainees like Johnny and Jake Kilroy and Sky Johnson. They had great expectations to surmount. Names like Lee, Miley, Wolff, Yarborough, Ryder and Tucker had already achieved folklore status. Lieutenant Colonel James M. Gavin took command of the newly activated 505th on 6 July 1942 and their own instructors had already volunteered for combat in that outfit. It was up to the new leadership to infuse cohesion, teamwork and a strong fighting spirit into these new formations.
The extraordinarily high standards of the airborne weighed heavily on Johnny. Add to that the ongoing feud with Jake and the possibility of going into combat with the hated Sergeant Bancroft, it was a wonder he had made it through the first three weeks. But he had. And here he was, sweating profusely and standing at attention late on a Friday afternoon at the end of C-Stage, waiting to hear what that bastard Bancroft had in store for him and the rest of his company.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carolina Maneuver Area, North Carolina - July 24, 1942
“The wise learn many things from their enemies.”
Aristophanes (c. 446 BC - c. 386 BC)
Sergeant Harley Tidrick lay prone on his bedroll. He was looking out the front opening of his government issued pup tent. The view as far as he could see consisted of a desolate wasteland with sparse vegetation. The foliage was primarily mangled trees and clumps of scrub pine. Here and there he could see some of the other tents of his squad and platoon scattered in the dreary wilderness. The usually parched and barren land was laced with random dirt roads, paths no wider than a walking trail and the occasional streambed now swollen with rushing water. Although it was the dry season, it had rained mercilessly for the last few days turning the omnipresent red clay into thick gooey muck. Harley shared the tent with Corporal Wally Carter, his assistant squad leader for the 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, Able Company, 116th Infantry Regiment of the 29th Infantry Division.
Harley eyed the rolling hills on the distant horizon that bounded this forlorn tract of land known to the United States Army as the Carolina Maneuver Area. The division had only been there for a few weeks but already the land was taking its toll. The brass was conducting large-scale maneuvers involving three army corps to prove the best way to combat the German Panzers, or armored tanks, was with mobile anti-tank units and not with other tanks. The Germans, on the other hand, had already discovered that the best anti-tank weapon was another tank. Unfortunately, the Soviet T-34, proved to be the best tank on the battlefield. The Panzers took horrific losses outside Moscow in December 1941 and in the subsequent Soviet winter counteroffensive in early 1942. The German High Command responded by producing an up-armored and up-gunned forty-five ton Panzer Mark V, with the long barrel 75-millimeter high velocity gun. This was the weapon the Germans hoped could contend with the T-34. This was the tank the United States Army designed its “tank destroyer” tactics to defeat.
American tank designers in the United States Army Ordnance Department had nothing on the drawing boards to match either of the best Soviet or German tanks. The army was already committed to the M4 Sherman as its main battle tank and full-scale production began in February 1942. It was a medium tank of thirty tons an
d fielded a short barrel 75-millimeter medium velocity gun. Though every expert agreed the Sherman would be at a tremendous disadvantage in a tank duel with any modern German tank, the decision to go into full-scale production was based on two major factors. The first and most important at the time was simply that every tank built had to be shipped overseas to fight. Shipping space was already at a premium and the German U-Boats were sending hulls to the bottom at alarming rates. A medium tank takes up much less shipping space than a heavy tank and therefore more of them could be transported. That led directly into the second reason. The Sherman could be mass-produced in great quantities on American production lines. What the M4 Sherman lacked in “tank-duel” quality would have to be made up in quantity. Since it was knowingly fielding an inferior battle tank, the army was compelled to consider other methods to engage and destroy enemy tanks. The mobile tank destroyer philosophy, which employed towed or mounted artillery and unarmored heavy caliber tank destroyers built on a tank chassis, were believed to be the answer to defeating heavy armor on the battlefield. The Carolina Maneuvers of the summer of 1942 were conducted to test that theory.
The 29th Infantry Division was part of the Blue Force in these massive maneuvers. In that role they chased the tanks of Red Force throughout the Maneuver Area with heavy caliber cannons mounted on halftracks and towed artillery. It was dirty and tiring work in the rain and the red muck of the Carolinas.
Harley was beat. He rested on his elbows looking out of the tent. The few weeks that the 29th Infantry Division had been deployed in this hellhole had already taken a toll on the men. The rain did little to mitigate the oppressive heat. The daily routine of executing the required tactics of Blue Force was brutal. He was sure whatever the war-ravaged lands of North Africa or Europe could bring upon them, nothing could be worse than this.
He had just finished the letter to Jake. The U.S.O. provided stationary had printed in bold red letters on each envelope and the top of each page, “IDLE GOSSIP SINKS SHIPS”. He would read the letter once more by the fading light of the day just to make sure he didn’t leave anything out.
Dear Jake,
You probably figured out by now I won’t be joining you in that suicide outfit of yours. The old man didn’t approve my transfer. So I’m stuck here with the Stonewallers. How’s jump school? How’s Danny Boy doing? We’re not in AP Hill anymore. We’re on maneuvers somewhere in the North Carolina boonies. Let me tell you, Jake, this is a hard place on humans.
We run around all day acting as “aggressor force” and try to knock out tanks with our mobile artillery. The trucks slip and slide in the mud, get stuck and we have to hump them out. This damn red clay gets all over everything and into every crack in your body, if you know what I mean. The heat is terrible and these damn bugs, called chiggers, are all over everyone. Some of the guys got infections from the bites. And it’s hot like hell. Even after only a few weeks, blisters, cracked lips and trench foot have sent a lot of the boys to the infirmary. Those of us who are left are just plain spent. If we actually had to fight in this condition, I don’t know how we would do it. Sometimes I wonder what the brass is thinking when they expose us to this crap. Hard training is one thing but ignoring these hardships is entirely another matter. At this rate there won’t be anyone left soon. The conditions are just too hard. Which is why I think they’ll be moving us out soon. Rumor has it that we are pulling out, along with the 4th Motorized Division. Word is we’re headed for Florida, a place called Camp Blanding. It can’t happen fast enough for me. I really need a shower.
We’re all issued the new M-1 Garand semi-automatic rifle. It’s a beauty. Fires 8 rounds as fast as you can pull the trigger. Accurate too. I loved my Springfield but you can’t beat this rifle for rate of fire. A lot of the guys are having trouble loading the magazine. They get their thumb caught by the bolt going forward because they’re not inserting the dang magazine right. They call it M-1 thumb!
Hopefully, the next letter you get from me will be from Florida. Speaking of letters, I got one from Macie yesterday. She says that she wrote to you but that you haven’t written her since you left for the paratroopers. I wrote to her that you were probably very busy in jump school. I hope nothing is wrong between you two? You might want to write her and tell her so.
Harley
Harley folded the letter and stuffed it into an envelope. His eyes again fell upon the warning. “IDLE GOSSIP SINKS SHIPS”. He wondered if he had provided any sensitive information but he was too tired to reread it. Let the censor worry about it! He sealed the envelope, stuffed it in his field jacket pocket, put his head down and fell fast asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fort Benning, Georgia - August 1, 1942
“Body and spirit I surrendered whole, to harsh instructors - and received a soul.”
Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936), Epitaphs, 1919
Private John Patrick Kilroy stood at rigid attention in company formation on the parade grounds of Fort Benning. He and the other boys of his training company proudly endured the brutal midday heat. There was barely a breeze to disturb the flags held upright by the Color Guard. The reviewing stand was packed with dignitaries and relatives on this Saturday morning.
Lieutenant Colonel James M. Gavin walked smartly up and down the ranks of the latest paratrooper class. He moved briskly from trooper to trooper, returned a salute, pinned the wings, a handshake, spoke a few words and moved on. The small jump wings represented a huge token to the select few who made it through the grueling crucible of jump school.
As Gavin came closer, Johnny straightened up just a bit more, tightened his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. Finally, Gavin approached Johnny, pinned his jump wings on, shook his hand and moved on to the next trooper. My god, he thought. This colonel looks so damn young. Immediately after that observation his mind snapped back to the beginning. Fuck you, Captain Wolff. I made it!
But there were moments, and more than just a few, over the last four weeks, when Johnny was convinced the comment Captain Wolff made in New York City months ago, was prescient. It certainly wasn’t easy, he reflected, but he just earned his jump wings and all he wanted to do was stick them in the captain’s face. Do you remember me, sir? Whitehall Street? New York City? You said I wouldn’t make it in the paratroopers? Well, look who was so wrong! He looked forward to that encounter. Of course, he had to be careful not to be disrespectful but just rub the captain’s nose in it a little. The prospect had been a tremendous motivator for him in his darkest and bleakest moments over the preceding weeks.
Johnny nudged Jake and glanced down at their jump wings. Both boys were compressing huge smiles into small grins. They stood with their chests out and their heads held high bursting with pride as Gavin continued down the line, pinning jump wings on their equally ecstatic cohorts. Johnny couldn’t help thinking about that last detail when he finally came to peace with Jake.
Sergeant Bancroft bounded up the training platform and addressed the formation. “We’re going for a little march,” he announced. “I’m tired of your belly-aching and bitching,” Bancroft continued. “I’m fed up with the petty squabbling that some of you seem to enjoy.”
A few men glanced furtively in the direction of Jake and Johnny Kilroy. It was obvious Bancroft was referring to them after the commotion in the packing shed.
“And if everyone is not back by sundown, then all weekend passes will be cancelled for everybody.” The groans became more audible.
“So ladies, let’s get going,” Bancroft hopped off the platform. The men shuffled slightly in position, tightening their grip on their rifle slings. Commands were shouted. The formation did a crisp left face and the detail moved out.
Baker Company of training class Number 22 stepped smartly out of the barracks area and marched in a column of four platoons into the wooded environs of Fort Benning. The platoons were now reduced to about thirty soldiers each from the original seventy. They kicked up the dust of the red Georgia clay as they labor
ed under the load of full field packs and slung rifles. There was no cadence being called. Only the slight shuffling sounds of boots grinding into the clay as the company marched into the deep Georgia woods.
In mid-summer in Georgia, the sun set about nine in the evening leaving almost four hours of hard marching ahead. That it was at the end of the day, when the heat of the sun paled slightly, did not make the march any easier. The stubborn humidity persisted regardless of the time of day.
The formation eventually came upon a newly blacktopped road perpendicular to the line of march. At this crossroads deep in the woods one platoon turned left, another went right and the rear-most platoon did an about face and headed back. Bancroft led his platoon straight ahead for another few minutes before he called a halt to the formation.
“Attention,” he ordered. The men snapped to attention. “Right face! Dress right, dress!” he bellowed. The platoon dressed up into perfect formation. “Enema, Yank, front and center.” Jake and Johnny scrambled out to the front and stood at attention. Bancroft addressed his second in command, Sergeant Bruce Copping. “Sergeant, take the rest of the platoon back to the barracks and pick up the stragglers on your way. Everyone back by sundown or no passes!”
The Last Jump: A Novel of World War II Page 16