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Airborne Combat

Airborne Comes Of Age

From Germany's first major drop into Norway in 1940 to the Allies' last airborne operation across the Rhine in March 1945, tens of thousands of airborne soldiers fell from the skies to fight behind enemy lines.

Virtually all of what are called "revolutions in military affairs" -- armored warfare, strategic bombing, combined-arms tactics, submarine warfare, amphibious assault, aircraft carrier–based operations -- appeared in one form or another during World War I. The only revolution that had yet to make its appearance by November 1918 was what is today termed airborne operations, although farsighted aviation advocate Brigadier General William "Billy" Mitchell had earlier proposed that infantry dropped by parachute could be used to attack German air bases in 1919, as a means to extend the damage that air power could inflict.

The war's end brought such innovations to a halt, while the penurious decade that followed the conflict ensured that virtually nothing moved forward in terms of preparation for using aircraft to project military power beyond military lines. Only science fiction writers, and precious few of them, took up the possibility of dropping military formations behind enemy lines.

The Allied Experience

Sicily

To the east, despite its small size, a party of British paratroopers seized Ponte Grande, but proved too few to prevent the Italian defenders from regaining the bridge. By the morning of the second day, both the British and Americans had a firm foothold on the eastern and southern shores of the island. Only at Gela were the Germans putting significant pressure on American troops. As a result George S. Patton ordered that the 504th Regimental Combat Team be dropped in to reinforce the line. That order led to one of the worst incidents of friendly fire during World War II. Despite careful efforts at coordination to ensure that the U.S. Navy would not fire on the incoming aircraft, the troop carrier formations came under intense anti-aircraft fire from the Allied fleet off Gela.

Allied naval and merchant units had been under attack by formations of Ju-88s and other Axis aircraft all day, including a major raid that ended immediately before the troop carrier aircraft arrived overhead. The slow-flying formations, clearly illuminated by a quarter moon, were sitting ducks for anxious naval gunners. Once one ill-disciplined gun crew opened up, everyone in the fleet, on the beaches and in the landing zones fired. It was mass slaughter. By the time it was over, the troop carriers had lost 23 out of 144 aircraft dispatched, with a further 37 aircraft badly damaged. Six of the aircraft shot down had their full load of paratroopers on board. Altogether, the 504th lost 81 dead, 132 wounded and 16 missing. Under intense anti-aircraft fire the transport crews once again dropped paratroopers all over southeastern Sicily; by evening on the 12th the regiment still only numbered 37 officers and 518 men.

The difficulties encountered in mass parachute drops in Sicily did not deter the continuation of the buildup of Allied airborne forces. In an era when military organizations and political leaders were more willing to accept casualties than is the case today, senior officers such as Dwight D. Eisenhower, Patton and Sir Alan Brooke wrote off the high casualty rates and flawed employment to a lack of experience rather than to a flawed concept. Moreover, the successful reinforcement of the Salerno bridgehead by a regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division in a short period of time also helped to strengthen the idea that paratrooper formations could be very useful in future military operations.

Normandy

At the end of 1943, the Allies made a major command shift. The team that had been running the war in the Mediterranean was brought to the British Isles to plan and execute the great invasion of France. Eisenhower became the supreme Allied commander, with British Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder as his deputy. Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery returned from the Mediterranean as well, to assume control of the initial phase of ground operations.

When they arrived in England, Eisenhower and his deputies inherited a scheme that was largely driven by what were thought to be the available resources. The initial plan for the invasion called for a three-division amphibious landing, supported by the drop of one airborne division. Both Eisenhower and Montgomery found the planning assumption of a four-division attack completely unacceptable. They even implied that they were not willing to command the invasion unless those numbers were substantially increased. They got their way. The Combined Chiefs of Staff found the logistical and amphibious resources to increase the invasion force to a six-division landing force -- three American, two British and one Canadian -- supported by a drop of three airborne divisions.

The proposal for a three-division airborne drop almost immediately resulted in a considerable fight between the overall commanders of Allied operations in support of the invasion, with Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory on one side and Montgomery and Eisenhower on the other. Leigh-Mallory argued, not very tactfully, that the paratroopers were going to be slaughtered by the Germans. According to him they would suffer upward of 95 percent casualties.

Eisenhower countered with his belief that the airborne assault at night would not suffer such a high casualty rate, but that it did not matter what the casualty rate was so long as the airborne troops accomplished their mission. As the supreme Allied commander, he got his way. But that argument brought a special poignancy to his visit to the members of the 101st Airborne Division on June 5, 1944. As he talked to the young paratroopers, Eisenhower was well aware that he might be sending all those men to their deaths.

What exactly was to be the mission of the American 82nd and 101st Airborne and the British 6th Airborne? The British airborne troops had perhaps the most crucial mission in terms of Normandy's geography. They were to seize the solid ground on the east side of the Orne River, while a specially trained gliderborne force was to seize the bridges over the Caen Canal and Orne at Benouville to achieve a linkup with the amphibious landings. The control of that ground, because of the swamps and marshy terrain lying farther east, would mean that the Germans could attack the British and Canadian beaches from the south, but not from the east. And that one direction -- to the south -- was more than enough to keep the Canadians busy when the murderous juvenile delinquents of the 12th SS Panzer Division "Hitlerjügend" arrived. The task of the American paratroopers was similar to that of the British: They were to keep the Germans off the backs of the soldiers making the Utah Beach landing and disrupt German communications throughout western Normandy.

The drops more than accomplished their mission and -- to use that dreadful military euphemism -- at "an acceptable cost." The British were luckier in that their drops were more concentrated, while the glider attack on the Caen Canal Bridge -- remembered forever afterward as "Pegasus Bridge" -- and the Orne River Bridge succeeded beyond the planners' wildest expectations. By late morning the commandos of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, had linked up with the 6th Airborne and the hard ground on the east side of the Orne was relatively secure.

The American paratroopers were less lucky in that, due to weather, bad navigation and German anti-aircraft fire, the troop carrier pilots dropped them all over Normandy. While that may have had a direct impact on their cohesion as fighting forces, the small groups of paratroopers spread havoc and confusion throughout the Norman countryside. In particular, their actions distracted the attention of German commanders away from the landings, including that on Omaha Beach. Moreover, enough paratroopers landed near where they were supposed to that the airborne was able to accomplish its basic missions -- Lieutenant Dick Winters' assault on the German battery at Brécourt Manor near the Utah Beach landing site being a notable example.

Once they had accomplished their mission, the paratroopers were supposed to be withdrawn in preparation for their next mission. They were not. The two American divisions stayed on line well into June and took terrible casualties. The British 6th Airborne Division remained even longer, suffering so many losses that it was not available in September for the Holland operation.

Market-Garden

The final ingredient in the recipe for disaster was the appointment of Lt. Gen. Frederick "Boy" Browning, the worst kind of supercilious British officer, to overall command of the operation. Browning received the appointment over the far more experienced American Maj. Gen. Matthew Ridgway, one of the war's great divisional commanders, for reasons that to this day are not clear. Browning's position in the British army was largely due to British prejudice based on tradition and prestige: Alan Brooke, chief of the Imperial General Staff, apparently felt the need to appoint a Guardsman to a corps command.

As the countdown to the start date of September 17, 1944, continued, the Allies seemed to provide their own obstacles to success. The more experienced American 101st and 82nd Airborne divisions were assigned easier roles in seizing the bridges on the way to Arnhem, and the most difficult task was left to the British 1st Airborne Division, which had no combat experience. Planners for the 1st Airborne Division then let the RAF air transport commander talk them out of using the fields immediately south of Arnhem as the main drop zone, because of German anti-aircraft gun concentrations. Instead the 1st Airborne dropped into areas that were six miles from their target. General Gavin later commented that if he had been in charge of the Arnhem drop, he would have taken the RAF's refusal to drop the troops closer all the way to Eisenhower. Moreover, there was not enough air transport to carry the whole division, so it was decided that only half would drop the first day and half the second day. The lack of sufficient airlift was made even worse by Browning's decision that he and his headquarters would fly in by glider on the first day and would require no fewer than 34 gliders, all of which came out of the hide of the combat forces. Finally, annoyed at one of his intelligence officers for squawking about the possibility that the German armor might be present in force in the Arnhem area, Browning fired the offending officer and then failed to pass along his warning to the 1st Airborne, which might at least have taken along more anti-tank mines as a precaution if it had been notified of that threat.

The errors continued when the jump was made on the 17th. One of the German commanders in the immediate area was General Kurt Student, the German airborne pioneer, who quickly recognized what the Allies were up to. His Fingerspitzengefuhl (hunch) was soon reinforced when German troops recovered the plans for the operation that an American lieutenant colonel (probably part of Browning's headquarters) had carried with him on a glider that crashed. None of the British radios worked on landing, and Maj. Gen. Roy Urquhart, the British 1st Airborne's commander, got trapped in Arnhem while his colonels argued about who should be in charge.

Despite all the command failures and mishaps, the performance of the airborne troops was magnificent. Two moments in the fighting stand out in my mind: the holding of the north end of the Arnhem bridge by Colonel John Frost's 2nd Parachute Battalion of the 1st Airborne and the seizure of the main bridge over the Waal River at Nijmegen by the 82nd Airborne's 504th Parachute Infantry.

However, there was not much that fighting skill could do to overcome the effects of planning incompetence and bad luck. The troops from the German Fifteenth Army caused nothing but headaches as the British XXX Corps drove north to link up with the isolated airborne divisions and secure the land route over the Rhine. British armor simply did not move with the requisite speed. As always, the Germans reacted with the audacity and ruthlessness that their doctrine called for. By the time that the Guards Armored Division reached Arnhem, all that could be done was to pull out the remnants of the British 1st Airborne Division, which had suffered more than 8,000 casualties, a stark contrast to the 1,500 casualties that XXX Corps had suffered in its too leisurely drive north.

As Allan Millett and I have suggested in our book, A War to Be Won: Fighting the Second World War, 1937-1945, "Market-Garden's dismal showing reflected the systemic and conceptual mistakes of Allied leaders, their inability to grasp war on the operational level, and the inherent difficulties of the Western Front in September 1944. In the largest sense Montgomery's strategy was territorial in nature, aimed at gaining a bridgehead over the Rhine and then fighting a battle on the north German plain. But there was no discernable operational objective...."

World War II

The Final Jump

But in the largest sense the spirit of the airborne represented the determination of the American and British people not to allow tyranny to hold sway over the great cities and homes of European civilization. And as we stand at the dawn of the 21st century, we should not forget the cost that those young men paid to guarantee our freedom. For some their reward was a burial plot in a far-off land; for others it was the burden of terrible memories and the pain of never-healed wounds; for still others it was the pain of losing friends and family members. Those "bands of brothers" paid a price for us that is our burden and our children's burden. Let us never forget.

Williamson Murray. Airborne Comes of Age. TheHistoryNet. World War II. March 2004.

O. B. Hill

O. B. Hill was with the 1st Battalion, 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division. He joined the U.S. Army in 1942, made the D-Day jump and was wounded after fighting in France. He was evacuated to England and rejoined his unit in time for the Battle of the Bulge. He was wounded a second time on Jan. 26, 1945, Hill passed away in June 2002.

When I was in infantry training, we were issued M1903 Springfield rifles. We did our marksmanship training with the ‘03s. During our training, we had classes on the "new” M1 rifle. There weren’t enough of them to go around, so we shared rifles. They taught us how to disassemble and assemble the M1, and we got to fire it. I remember during the class they taught the general principles about the rifle. They told us the speed of the bullet when it left the barrel and the gas pressure in the barrel. I don’t think any of that stuff stayed with me once I left the room. I liked the M1 very much, better than the ’03. It was semi-automatic, and since you didn’t have to work the bolt, it was easier to fire. It had less recoil and an eight-round clip.

After jump school, I reported to the 508th at Camp Blanding, Fla. I was issued an M1, and that was the rifle I carried all the way through the Normandy campaign. The 508th went over to England and became part of the 82nd Airborne Division. We did quite a bit of training before the invasion. When we made the D-Day jump, our commander encouraged us to carry as much ammunition as we could. So I carried as many extra bandoleers as I possibly could, and I’m glad I did. In fact, I didn’t wear a reserve chute because I didn’t have room for it. I didn’t put my M1 in a case; I just pushed it between the harness and my body and jumped with it.

We were pretty scattered on the jump. I think I landed about five miles from where I was supposed to be. We formed a group; I had more men from the 508th than any other unit. But there were a few men from the 101st, one from the 505th and one from the 507th in my little group. I think I ended up with 28 men in the group once we all got together.

That night, we got into two firefights with the Germans, and I lost about half the men I had. After daylight, we ran into another group of paratroopers, and we joined them. We had no officers, no medics, no communication equipment and no heavy weapons. The heaviest things we had were our M1s and some grenades. We used a Gammon grenade to blow up a French Renault tank the Germans were using. We were in the second floor of a house, and it stopped immediately under us. The turret opened, and the guy stood up in it. I took the cap off the Gammon grenade and handed it to my buddy. He dropped it down the turret in front of the guy. That wiped that tank out. Our group fought for five days behind the enemy lines and then another two days before I was wounded.

As I mentioned, I'm glad that I carried the extra ammo. By the time my group was relieved by a patrol from the 90th Division on the fifth day, I was down to seven rounds of ammunition. Some of the guys were out of ammo, and the most anybody had was two clips. It was a bad feeling to be that low on ammo. My buddy and I asked every man if they wanted to give up or if they wanted to stay. Every damned man said that if we've stayed here this long, we can stay here forever. I was glad they said that, because we had already decided we would stay. That is what I called the "Airborne Spirit."

I was wounded on the 13th of June and evacuated to England. I don't know what happened to my rifle after I was wounded, I guess it stayed there. I missed the operation in Holland while I was recovering in England. I returned to my unit in France, just before the Battle of the Bulge. Since I was an NCO, I was given a choice of what type of arm I could carry. I could choose between an M 1 rifle, a Tommy gun, a regular carbine or a folding-stock M1A1 carbine. I chose to continue to carry the M1 rifle because it was an efficient weapon that had got me through some tough situations. I didn't think having a Tommy gun was much of an advantage.

During the Bulge, I didn't carry as much ammo as I had during the D-Day jump. Since we went into combat as a unit, it wasn't necessary to carry as much. We were given an ample supply to last us for two or three days in case we got isolated, although I never thought we'd get isolated because we were fighting as a unit. At that time, I didn't keep the clips in my belt or use bandoleers. I would keep the clips in my pockets and in my musette bag. Anyplace I had room, I kept clips there. I just thought it was more comfortable to carry the ammo that way, and I was able to carry all I needed. I still wore the ammo belt to carry my canteen, entrenching tool and the necessary things.

I fought in the Battle of the Bulge from the 17th of December though the 26th of January, when I was wounded the second time. I was sent to Paris to recuperate this time. I could have gone back to England, but I requested to rejoin the outfit. I got back to the 508th just about as the war ended. I stayed in Germany until August and was rotated home.

The M1 was a reliable weapon. I kept mine clean as much as possible. On the jump into Normandy, I landed in water, and my rifle got wet. Although it was wet, it worked just fine. However, during a lull the next day, I made sure to clean it so I'd be sure it would keep working. Even during the Bulge in miserable conditions, I cleaned my rifle every time I had the chance and tried to keep the snow and dirt out of it as much as possible. I never had any problems with it.

O.B. Hill. It Was A Bad Feeling. American Rifleman. February 2006.

101st Airborne : The Screaming Eagles at Normandy Subtitled: Screaming Eagles at Normandy. This unprecedented look at the 101st Airborne contains photographs so rare, you won't believe your eyes! Mark Bando made an incredible find when he unearthed 50 color images of the Screaming Eagles taken at Normandy. These photographs, together with firsthand accounts and day-to-day, minute-by-minute history of the 101st Airborne, tell the story of this elite fighting group. These extremely rare images, together with more than 200 previously unpublished archival photographs from the author's own collection, provide a dynamic look at these daring World War II paratroopers.

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