The Last Jump: A Novel of World War II

by John E. Nevola

  Casualties began to mount as the small force executed a textbook fighting retreat through the town. Turnbull could tell the axis of attack by the direction of the sounds of the gunfire and the unique sounds of the various weapons. The heavy ripping sound of the German MG-42 on his left flank indicated the squad defending that area was under intense pressure. The rapid-fire sounds of M-1 Garands and Browning Automatic Rifles along with the melodic chugging sound of the .30-caliber Browning Light Machine Gun told him his right flank protecting force had ambushed some Germans trying to work their way around his position.

  This cat and mouse game played out for a few hours as the paratroopers fired and maneuvered toward the rear of the town. The Germans fired their mortars as they moved their circling forces around the flanks. All the while, Turnbull was pulling his CP back while staying in touch with Vandervoort’s headquarters on the field telephone. The Screaming Eagles and a few All-Americans provided security and kept an eye on the open center down N-13.

  “Let’s pull the CP back to the next street,” yelled Turnbull.

  “Ready?” One of the sergeants yelled. “Now!”

  Every paratrooper in the small group fired their weapons as the lieutenant and a few men pulled back to the next cross street. It was the last cross street in the town.

  There was a low stone wall just off the road outside the rear of the town. A nearby drainage ditch provided additional cover. Turnbull eyed it as his last stand position from which he might gather his men and hold out while still having the option of withdrawing. He was already gathering his wounded there; Goldbacher and Smith being among those being treated. As he considered his options, his telephone went dead. Now he was isolated as well as nearly surrounded.

  “Trooper,” he called to Teddy. “I need a runner to get word back to the CO.”

  Teddy hesitated. Jake saw the frightened look in his eyes. Teddy wasn’t a coward. He’d been through some rough combat and acquitted himself well. But every so often an otherwise brave man would lapse into a paralysis of fear. Teddy could stand at the corner of the stone house and fire his weapon all day long but he could not step out in the open and expose himself.

  “I’ll do it, sir,” Jake slung his Thompson on his shoulder and stepped forward. “Just take care of my boys.” He nodded toward the wall where the wounded were being gathered.

  Turnbull looked at Teddy and back to Jake. He sensed what was going on. “Very well, Private. Tell the colonel we have six dead, a dozen wounded and we’re being enveloped on both flanks.” Turnbull cleared his throat. “Unless we get some help it’ll be difficult to disengage. In that case, we’ll just hold on here as long as our ammo holds out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jake began to move out.

  “One more thing. Trace the wire. If you find the break, see if you can repair it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jake acknowledged.

  “Get ready.” Turnbull ordered. “Wait for our covering fire.”

  Jake nodded and Turnbull gave the order to open fire. Everyone in the CP security detail aimed their weapons at suspected enemy positions in the town and let loose a fusillade of small arms fire. Jake slipped out and ran down the road in a low crouch until he reached the drainage ditch alongside N-13. His Thompson at the ready, he picked up the field telephone phone wire and resumed running in a low crouch as he let the wire slide through the fingers of his empty hand. He had almost a mile to go and had to pace himself.

  After a few minutes and a few hundred yards, the wire slipped from his fingers. It was broken clean. Jake stopped in his tracks. Usually when an explosion tore a wire, the ends were frayed. Not only was this end clean, the other broken end was ten feet away and also cut clean. Someone had snipped the wire in two places and removed the middle piece so it could not be easily spliced back together. Krauts! He thought. But so far in the rear?

  He heard the crackle of the brush in the hedgerow behind him at the same instant the shadow flickered across the ground in front of him. His reaction was instinctive. He fell off to the left and spun around quickly depressing the trigger of his Thompson. The bullets started flying in an arc before he completed his turn. By the time he spun fully around, the .45-caliber slugs had nearly torn the German scout in half. The German fell with a surprised look on his face and was dead before he hit the ground. Jake pulled a grenade and flipped it over the hedgerow. He didn’t wait to see if his grenade took out any more Germans.

  So, the Krauts already had some forces between Neuville-au-Plain and Sainte-Mere-Eglise. He would have to be extremely alert in case that German soldier was not alone.

  Jake alternately jogged and walked as he made his way back to Sainte-Mere-Eglise. The drainage ditch offered some protection but he had to leave it at times when it became too shallow. He darted from one concealed position to another, resting only briefly, but not long enough to fully catch his breath. The adrenaline was flowing, his heart rate was up and he was sweating profusely. His encounter with the German scout had pumped him up.

  He finally saw the buildings of Sainte-Mere-Eglise and was challenged at an outpost and passed through to Vandervoort’s headquarters. Jake gave his report. Vandervoort put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’ve got one platoon that I can send. Can you show them the way back?”

  Jake nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Vandervoort turned to his aide-de-camp. “Get Lieutenant Peterson and First Platoon up here pronto. Get those Pathfinders, too!”

  Orders were shouted and repeated down the line and paratroopers began to assemble on the double. Jake stared down the length of N-13 towards Neuville-au-Plain. He could barely hear the gunfire nearly a mile away. That there was still firing was encouraging. The terrain to the left and west of N-13 was fractured and broken by hedgerows and fields. It would take longer to reach Turnbull by this off-road route. However, they would not be as easily observed moving through the bocage country.

  “Well. I’ll be damned,” Jake heard the familiar voice behind him. “If it isn’t my old friend, Enema.”

  Jake turned slowly. It was Sergeant Gene Bancroft and he seemed as surly as ever. Jake walked up to him and whispered through gritted teeth. “I should have killed you where I found you in Sicily, crying like a little baby in the night.”

  Bancroft didn’t react. He just stared at Jake. “I surely thought I was rid of you, boy. You and your friend, Yank. And here you are, like a bad penny.”

  Suddenly a paratrooper wedged himself in between the two soldiers. It was Danny Peregory. He looked at Bancroft. “Leave him the fuck alone, you sadistic bastard!”

  Bancroft took a step back, surprised at the aggressive move from Danny. “We’ll finish this another time,” he said to Jake. “If you make it through the day.” He turned to Danny. “You too, you little bitch.”

  Danny grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him away. “Jesus, Jake, I thought that was you. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Long story,” Jake replied as he hugged Danny playfully around the neck. “I saw your little flare-up with Cannonball this morning. What are you doing here?”

  “Me and my team are in this relief force.”

  Lieutenant Peterson approached Jake. Bancroft backed off as if nothing was wrong. “What’s the situation up there, Private?”

  Jake explained the tactical situation of the remnants of the 3rd Platoon and how Turnbull, against orders, was intent on making a stand rather than abandon his wounded. He described the terrain to the west of the highway as best he could and suggested that approach to get to Turnbull. They would be easy targets for the Krauts if they took the road back.

  “The Krauts seem to be making a wide swing around Lieutenant Turnbull’s left flank, sir.”

  Peterson nodded. “They may be so intent on encircling him they won’t be looking for us. We may be able to surprise them.” He handed Bancroft a handi-talkie radio and addressed them. “You three scout up ahead. Let us know if you run into anything. I’ll take my platoon on an end run to the left and try
to intercept the Krauts. If you see anything I ought to know, use the radio.”

  Bancroft replied, “Yes, sir.” The three men headed out down the highway for a few hundred yards before they slipped into the hedgerows to the left of the road.

  Peterson moved his platoon into the bocage country. They navigated through the hedgerows quickly and ready to fight. The radio remained silent; a good sign the scouts had not run into a German formation.

  Nearly an hour went by when Peterson finally found what he was looking for. In a large open field to his front, a force of about one hundred Germans were gathering to attack the unsuspecting rear of Turnbull’s small force. Peterson brought up his mortar crew. When all the preparations had been made, he gave the order. His mortar crew opened up with a barrage that caught the Germans in an open field with no cover. The paratroopers opened up with everything they had. Bits of vegetation flew in all directions and dirt kicked up from the ground as the troopers mowed down any Germans who survived the mortar barrage. It was all over in a few minutes. The small victory had been overwhelming. Peterson suffered no casualties. With this enveloping force out of the way, he struck out for the road to get to Turnbull faster.

  Turnbull was being pressed hard on all sides. He had less than twenty men left and was about to be surrounded. When Jake and Danny miraculously came out of the hedgerow to his rear, they advised Turnbull a relief force of paratroopers was on the way. It was not large enough to stop the Germans but was powerful enough to disrupt them so he could disengage and withdraw.

  “Well done, trooper.” Turnbull knew this would be his last chance to withdraw his men.

  Twenty yards behind, Peterson’s platoon crashed through the hedgerow onto the highway.

  “Time to go, sir,” Jake pleaded when he heard the commotion. “Those are our guys.”

  “All right,” he yelled. “Covering fire on my command. Everyone who can walk head back down the road.” Then he yelled, “Fire!”

  Every gun let loose with a high volume of accurate fire. Under the cover of the small barrage, Turnbull led his remaining force on the quickstep back down N-13 firing as they retreated. The relief force added their volume of fire and successfully extricated the remnants of Turnbull’s platoon from Neuville-au-Plain.

  As the combined force worked their way toward Sainte-Mere-Eglise, the lone body of a paratrooper lay off to the side of the road. Lieutenant Peterson recognized the stripes and flipped the body over using his foot. It was Sergeant Gene Bancroft. He was dead, a neat hole between his eyes. Peterson looked at Jake and Danny. Danny spoke. “Sniper,” he curtly explained. Peterson nodded and the men continued back toward Sainte-Mere-Eglise.

  Turnbull had held off a much superior force of the German 1058th Regiment of the 91st Airlanding Division. He limped back into Sainte-Mere-Eglise with only sixteen men of his original force of forty-three. But they held all day and now dug in along with the rest of their paratrooper and glidermen brothers to hold Sainte-Mere-Eglise.

  Jake finally learned what German unit was in the area that day and he would never forget it. It was 1900 hours on D-Day.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Newport News, Virginia - June 6, 1944

  “The oaths of a woman I inscribe on water.”

  Sophocles (496 BC – 406 BC)

  June 6, 1944

  Dear Jake,

  We just got the news that the invasion has started. The radio played Ike’s order of the day. We were told it was the same order piped into the ships waiting to invade France. I got goose bumps just listening to him.

  They stopped the yard for a few minutes and blew all the whistles on all the ships at the same time. Everyone was crying, even the men. The tears were more from hope that our boys come through this day safely and with victory. Almost everyone I know has someone who is serving. Most people have either lost a loved one or know someone who has. The Western Union delivery boy is the most hated person in the country. We hate to see him riding his bicycle because he only brings bad news. But I’m afraid the news will probably get worse before it gets better. There is comfort knowing the whole country is standing together with a single goal to win the war and bring our boys home. We’re all in this together and we lift each other up when a lift is needed.

  The spirit here in America is unbelievable. We heard on the radio that church bells have been ringing all over the land all day. The Liberty Bell was even struck once today for the first time in over a hundred years and it was broadcast live on the radio. Volunteers are crowding into Red Cross shelters and rolling bandages and packing first aid kits and doing something, anything, to contribute. The lines for giving blood are around the block. Everyone is buying war bonds. It’s almost as if we’re right there beside you. I know that sounds silly but I feel so close to you today. I pray that you are safe.

  We launched the Intrepid a few months ago and right now there are 5 big aircraft carriers under construction. I’m training other young women now and I supervise a crew of 20 welders. That’s a lot of responsibility for someone my age but I’m sure there are a lot of 21 year olds getting shot at. This war is making us all grow up faster!

  Let’s pray that today is the turning point and that the planes and ships and tanks we’re building and the men and women that are serving can finally end this ugly War once and for all time. Please know that all of us back home are working and praying for all of our boys to return home soon.

  I know our future has been kind of up in the air and a little unsettled, Jake. I’m no longer willing to leave it that way. If you still want to get married when you get home, I would be proud to be your wife.

  Love, Macie

  Chapter Fifty

  Pointe-du-Hoc, France - June 6, 1944

  “Mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent.”

  Adam Smith (1732 - 1790)

  Having scaled the heights of Pointe-du-Hoc, the U.S. Army Rangers patrolled vigorously inland beyond the shell pocked and bunker laden area adjacent to the cliffs above the sea. The Ranger command post was located cliffside, behind one of the concrete casemates near a knocked-out bunker on the east side of the Pointe. By late morning, neither the Pointe area nor the inland roads and fields had been fully secured. German snipers used the trench network to pop up and take shots at the CP before disappearing into the maze. They became increasingly more aggressive as the day wore on. There were simply not enough Rangers to secure the area. Movement was dangerous and the Rangers guarding Colonel Rudder’s CP remained vigilant.

  Further inland, south of the CP, the bulk of the Ranger force was probing the German positions. It didn’t take long to discover a superior German force located nearby. It was massing with the intention of counterattacking and dislodging the Rangers from the escarpment. The Americans had stirred up a hornet’s nest and had no choice but to go on the defensive. Three depleted Ranger Companies, sixty men, dug in and set up blocking positions along the hedgerows to deny the Germans use of the paved Vierville-Grandcamp Highway.

  Their position formed a right angle facing southwest as dictated by the hedgerows. Each side of the angle was nearly 300 yards long. Easy and Fox Companies had dug in facing south. They had good open fields of fire in front and the paved road was behind them. Dog Company dug in facing west along a lane covered by another hedgerow. The right flank of their north-south line ended at the paved highway. The left end of Dog Company’s line touched the right flank of Easy Company’s line facing south, forming the apex.

  There were inadequate numbers of men to fortify a continuous line further to the east. This gap in Rudder’s left flank was the weak link in his defense. An outpost was established and a captured machine gun was assigned to that sector. It would prevent the Germans from flanking the roadblock defensive lines. The Americans made good use of the existing barbed wire and minefields the Germans had previously set up to defend the Pointe from an inland Allied attack.

  Rudder was concerned his meager force was so stretched out. Despite his doubts, he d
ecided it was more important to maintain control of the highway. There was no mobile reserve. If the Germans broke through, Rudder planned to make his stand around the bunker complex that comprised his aid station and CP. It wasn’t an ideal defensive setup but it would have to do.

  The Germans probed the American defenses during the day, mounting two attacks from the southwest. The Americans doggedly held on. They even took some prisoners. But Ranger casualties were mounting. Without reinforcements, the Ranger foothold on Pointe-du-Hoc remained tenuous at best. The officers expected a determined attack after dark.

  The preparations to repulse the night attack were undertaken with desperation. All the wounded who could not fight were lowered to the beach from the escarpment. The wounded would wait for evacuation in the relative safety of the caves at the base of the cliff.

  About forty German prisoners were placed in foxholes inside the apex of the angle of the defensive line. Although the Americans were running out of ammo, there were plenty of German supplies in the captured bunkers. NCOs passed out German “potato-masher” grenades to the less-than-enthusiastic Rangers who had the greatest disdain for that weapon. However, the German MG-42 machine guns were welcomed with their abundant supply of ammunition. Rangers, like paratroopers, were trained extensively in enemy weaponry.

  Johnny Kilroy was at the CP bunker, having just helped bring some wounded Rangers back from the roadblock position along with Staff Sergeant Zack. Suddenly he heard gunfire. The MG-42 manned by Rangers at the outpost fired off a string of 7.92-millimeter rounds. The intruders answered with the unmistaken sound of M-1 Garands. It became obvious to the Rangers it was an American patrol once they heard their weapons. Johnny could hear the shouting.