Paratrooper on D-Day by Edward M. Isbell, Communication
Chief, Company E, 507th Parachute Infantry, 82nd Airborne
Division

We left Toilerton Hall on May 28, 1944, for the marshaling area at Fullbeck and Barkston-Heath, England,
preparatory to the invasion of France.  While at the marshaling area we went over our mission at least
twice a day, using sand tables, maps, and pictures of our proposed drop zone.

Chuck went to the marshaling area a week before we did to set up a sand table for our company.  It
covered the area where our mission was to take place.  Chuck was very good at this.  The table showed
the town and bridges we were to capture and where the German positions were located.

Photographs of our drop zone were taken each day.  It was changed several times because the Germans
were flooding all the open fields and placing poles with barbed wire strung between them in anticipation
of our arrival.

I couldn't believe how Chuck's personality had changed from the last time I saw him.  His bunk was
covered with candy, chewing gum etc. (goodies that were given to us by the Red Cross and others).
He must not have slept in days and had lost weight.  It was obvious that he had not used his bunk.  I
recall saying something about all the stuff on his bunk.  He told me to take anything I wanted ~ that he
wasn't going to need it.  I couldn't get him to talk about anything.  All he seemed to want to do was look
at the sand table.  He just wasn't himself.

He had been studying our mission for days.  I'm sure he could see what the Germans had in store for us
better than we could.  We all knew our chance of being a casualty was very high.  Even if we survived our
mission, our lives still depended on the beach landings being successful.

Chuck knew that many of us wouldn't make it back and that this might be the last time our original
company would be together after several years of living together through the hardships of airborne
training.  Some would be killed, some wounded, some captured and others transferred to other units.

This was our first combat jump, so you would think that being killed or wounded would be your first
concern, but worrying about holding up in combat, being so frightened you would disgrace yourself in the
eyes of your buddies and reacting to the killing of another human, were our worst fears.  These thoughts
were foremost in our minds and there was no training that made these things easy to face.

We were getting ready to leave on June 4 but the invasion had been postponed from June 5 to June 6, 1944,
because of bad weather over the channel.

Before we left to board the planes on the evening of the 5th, Captain Creek gave us a talk, wishing us the
best of luck and ended with an outstanding prayer.  I can never forget that evening as we walked to the
planes.  The cooks in our regiment were not going into combat, but they were lined up on both sides of
the road ~ presenting arms ~ with tear-filled eyes as we passed through.

Even though they were non-jumpers, we thought as much of them as we did of each other.  They were
very special to us.  We were always kidding them about the food they prepared even though most of the
time it was very good.  I know it was hard for them to see us go.

Our takeoff time was 11 p.m., and we jumped into France about 1:30 a.m. on June 6, 1944 (D-Day)
approximately five hours before the Allied armies stormed the beaches of Normandy, France.

We flew over the channel just above the fleet of 5,333 ships and landing craft.  It looked as if you could
step from one to the other.  There were 9,210 aircraft that flew the channel that night.  It was hard to
realize that there were that many ships and planes in the world.

The executive officer, First Lieutenant Howard, was the second in command of our company and was the
jumpmaster of the plane I was in.  On the way over the channel he let each man come to the door to have
a quick look.  I would guess we were flying about 200 feet above the ships to keep from being picked up
by the German radar.

It was hard to believe the armada we saw below.  It made us feel a lot better knowing they would be
hitting the beaches in a few hours to back us up.  As we made our turn over Guernsey Island toward the
coast of France we began to receive heavy anti-aircraft fire.  After a few minutes we received the red light
for us to stand up and hook up.

As we waited for the green light that would let the jumpmaster know it was time to hit the silk, our plane
was hit by flak in several places.  The right motor was on fire.  We were losing altitude and had no choice
but to leave the plane before reaching our drop zone.

The green light came on and out the door we went, do or die.  We missed our drop zone several miles.  
I don't know if the plane got back or not.

I'll always remember the crew chief of our plane.  He was a large fellow and very friendly.  He stayed on
the plane while we were at the marshaling area in England and I would go down every day and chat with
him.  He told me that he would never jump out of a plane even if it was going to crash.

As we were going into France that morning he sat by the door ready to pull the manual equipment release
in case the automatic release failed.  I often kidded him saying I was going to pull him out with me as I
went out the door.

Knowing that our plane was losing altitude, we were in a big hurry to get out.  With all the heavy and
bulky equipment we were carrying, it was a matter of shuffling along until you could fall out the door.
As the trooper in front of me reached the door I reached over and slapped the crew chief on the shoulder
and shouted, "Let's go! GERONIMO!" I shouldn't have done that because it startled him and in that
split-second when my right hand touched his shoulder, I remember him throwing his head back against
the plane.

I would like to have seen him again, but it might be better for me that I didn't.  I hope the plane made it
back.  Those C-47s could fly with one motor and with a lighter load.  Maybe they made it back safely.  I
hope so, anyway.

The parachute flares shot up by the Germans put us in the spotlight.  We were getting machine gun and
rifle fire from the ground.  I didn't think I was going to get down alive.  Sergeant Thomas and I were the
last out of the plane and were out of reach of the machine gun fire, but there were a few riflemen that were
determined to hit me before I reached the ground.  The bullets were cracking all around me.  I could see
the flash of their rifles as we were coming down and knew that I was going to land in their laps.

I went limp, dropping my arms as if I had been hit.  I landed beside an apple tree in a cow pasture.
While trying to get out of my harness, I realized my musette bag was missing.  The buckle of the belt that
secured it beneath my reserve chute broke on my opening shock.  I lost my blanket, three days of K
rations, a few clothes, toilet kit, cigarettes, an extra bandoleer of rifle ammo and some grenades.

As soon as I got out of my harness, I loaded my rifle.  We were told not to load our weapons until after
daylight to keep panic from breaking out on the jump zone.  I knew we had missed our drop zone and
there were more Germans around than troopers.

I took cover by a hedgerow trying to get myself together when I heard Robert Winn, our company runner
(message carrier) calling for a medic.  I tried to locate him, but there was a flooded field between us, and
by the time I worked myself around the water in his direction, he had stopped calling for a medic.  I had
no luck finding him. I found out later he had broken his leg landing and was captured.

We lost a lot of men in those plowed fields that had been flooded with water head-high and mud deep
enough to anchor your feet.

When I saw Captain Creek 47 years later at Duane Gifford's home in Kansas, he told us he landed in one
and had no idea how he managed to get out alive.  He had to get rid of everything but his jump suit to
keep from drowning.  He went on to say that a fellow in our company was responsible for saving his life
by keeping his trench knife as sharp as a razor.  Creek told us that the sharp knife made it easy and fast to
cut all the straps that would free him of the chute and equipment while his head was under water and feet
stuck in the mud.

I started looking for others.  I found out later that many of the men in my plane were hit coming down.  
As the communication Sergeant, I had a radio and tried several times to reach one of the other operators
in our company, but had no response.  The only ones I remember in my plane were Lieutenant Howard,
Sergeant Thomas, Pfc Winn, and Cpl. Huges.  I never found out what happened to Huges.  I know
Lieutenant Howard got back to England, because letters mother had written me were returned, marked
"missing in action" and were signed by Lieutenant Howard.  Sergeant Thomas was commissioned second
lieutenant on the field of battle and was wounded Jan. 12, 1945.  Winn broke his leg on the jump and was
captured.

It was impossible to know where you were without being able to see landmarks.  I did cover my head
with my jacket and used my flashlight to look at my compass, but not knowing just where we had landed
it was very little use.  After daylight I began to locate some landmarks (roads, etc.) on my map and it
looked as if I was about four or five from our drop zone.

Every way I moved there were Germans, mine fields and swamps.  I didn't get far that day or have any
luck finding anyone.  Later that day I did find a bullet hole in my trousers that had gone beneath the right
pocket where I was carrying a pound of plastic explosion.

I don't remember praying to God for help until the next day, but I'm sure I was depending on Him to
protect me and give me the courage to do what I was there for.  On this day, June 7, I was under heavy
barrages by our Navy's 16-inch guns and bombers.  I never prayed as hard in my life as I did that day.
From that time on I depended on Him more than myself for guidance.

I saw several of our men who had been killed, as well as many Germans.  Not knowing if our beach
landings had been a success, I thought it best to head in the direction of the beaches.  If the landings had
failed, it wouldn't make much difference where I went.  If this had happened, there would have been two
US airborne divisions and a British airborne division (about 30,000 men) up the creek without a paddle.

I moved about a mile that night. The more I moved in the direction of the beaches, the more Germans
there were.  On the morning of the 8th, just as it was getting light, I saw a soldier standing about 50 feet
from me.  I sounded my cricket (all troopers had them for identification). He was a German and was
carrying his rifle as if he might be rabbit hunting.

I had a grenade in my hand as I always carried one at night.  You could see the flash of a rifle at night, but
could throw a grenade and not give your position away.  It also kept me from falling asleep ~ knowing I
held a grenade with the pin pulled.

The German was too close for me to throw the grenade and my rifle was slung over my shoulder.  We
both just stood looking and waiting to see what the other was going to do.  I don't know if he could see
the grenade in my hand or not.  If he had started to raise his rifle, I would have thrown the grenade and
taken my chances.  I can't say how long we stood there, maybe a few seconds or minutes ~ who knows.  
Both of us turned at the same instant and ran in different directions.

It was just after this that I encountered some Germans who started shooting at me.  They pinned me
down in a ditch not far from a wall.  I first thought they were troopers since their rifles didn't sound like
German rifles.  I raised a yellow flag on the end of my bayonet which we also carried for identification.  
It wasn't troopers; that was for sure!

We continued to fire at each other for some time.  Each time I had to reload with a new clip I would move
back a little at a time toward the wall.  I finally got close enough to make a run for it.  I thought about
going around and getting to their backs, but I didn't know how many there were.  I didn't feel like taking
on the German army.  I was beginning to think I was the only trooper in France.

That night I came close to falling into a bunker with some Germans.  I stopped when I smelled the odor of
German tea.  They drank so much of it their bodies and clothes reeked with the odor.  I didn't know which
way to go until I heard snoring.  I knew if I was this close to their position there had to be some booby
traps or mines around.  I thought I had headed back the same way but wasn't sure, so most of the time I
crawled on my stomach feeling for traps.

Just before daylight, as I was trying to work my way around their outpost, I heard a voice that was so
clear I froze in my tracks ~ "Edward! Stop! Don't move" ~ it said.  I froze and didn't move from that spot
until I could see better.

As it began to get light, I saw a sign in German indicating a mine field.  These signs were posted by the
Germans for the protection of their own troops before the invasion and had not been removed.  Just in
front of me was a trip wire that would have exploded a personnel mine.  God was sure looking after me
and giving me the courage I needed to continue.

I know that when a person is in bad need of sleep, tired and most of all frightened to death, he can
imagine seeing and hearing things, but this is the only time in my life I experienced anything like that.  
Several times I would think I saw a sniper in a tree and the longer I looked at it, the more realistic it
would become.  I guess we have all had experiences when we imagined hearing or seeing things, but I'll
never believe I imagined that voice.  Never did anyone call me "Edward" in the army, and I know it
wasn't a German, so it had to be my Guardian Angel.

On the 9th I found the bodies of four troopers who had been ambushed near an old barn.  I threw a
grenade in the barn and checked it out.  The Germans had gone.  I didn't know any of the troopers.
I was still heading for our lines.  I wanted to get my map to our artillery so they could knock out the
German targets I had marked.  I could tell by the artillery that our troops had made the beach landings
OK and were moving inland to cut off the peninsula.  Our artillery and fighters were giving the Germans
a fit.  I know! I was there!

I was getting hungry by now. The only thing I had eaten since landing was two D-bars (candy) which I had
in my pocket.  As I mentioned earlier, my rations were lost coming down.

Early on the morning of the 10th a trooper from the 508th Regiment spotted me from an old building and
came running out to meet me.  He was as happy to see me as I was him.  It was good not to be alone.  He
still had some K rations which he shared with me.  I never thought K rations could be so good.

After talking it over, we decided to move up the road.  He was about 50 yards ahead of me on the right
side of the dirt road or path.  A hedgerow bordered the left side that I was on.  A shot was fired and I hit
the ground.  Looking up, I could see the trooper lying on his side.  His rifle was in the path several feet
from him.  I knew he had been hit.  I waited a few minutes to see if anyone was going to show up.  No
one did.

Knowing the shot came from my side of the road and the sniper had not seen me I moved back slowly to
find an opening so I could get on the other side of the hedgerow.  I found the sniper perched in a tree.  I
guess he was wondering if there were more troopers behind the one he shot.  He was straining to see
down the road when I shot.

After checking to make sure he was dead I hurried back to the trooper.  He had been hit in the head and
was dead.  I stuck his rifle in the ground and placed his helmet on top.  Taking his K rations and some
ammo, I headed back to the old barn where we had met.  I was scared, tired, and just wanted to go to
sleep and wake up to find it all a bad dream, but sleeping was impossible.

Late that evening I started out again.  It was better to move at night.  The Germans didn't get out at night
unless they were on patrol.

I didn't get far, because of the activity on the main road (black top).  A little of every thing: trucks,
motorcycles, half-tracks, and soldiers were all moving back up the peninsula.  I was hoping our troops
were close behind.

I had taken cover in a hedgerow not far from the road.  It was dark and hard to see what was going on.
After awhile, things quieted down. I must have dropped off to sleep.  When I opened my eyes, it was
daylight.  Sunday morning June 11, 1944.

The day started out quiet and peaceful.  I had started on a journey that would be pure hell for eleven
months!  This is not to say that the past five days had not been!

I spotted a house and barn not far away, but things seemed to be too quiet around the house for me to
approach it.  My mouth and throat were dry, and I needed some water that I knew had not been
poisoned, but not bad enough to get ambushed.

There were some cows in an apple orchard near by, and I checked their water trough, but it was more
mud than water.  I took my canteen cup and was going to try something I had never done~ milk a cow.

As I bent over beside the cow to try my luck, I saw a woman coming down the path from the house.  I
started toward her to ask if she had seen any American troops nearby and if I could get some water from
the well.  I guess she had been watching me from the house.

All at once she turned and started back up the path.  I turned around and saw three Germans walking in
our direction.  They went through an opening in a hedgerow and settled down for a break on the other
side.  They must have been blind not to have seen me.

I crossed the field and worked my way slowly down the opposite side of the hedgerow from them toward
the opening.  As I moved along I tried to figure out the best thing to do.  Taking them prisoners was out
of the question.  Should I go around them as if they didn't exist?  They could kill me or some other trooper
later.

I did not hate the German soldier, but he was the enemy and our job was to destroy them before they
destroyed us.  I had only two grenades left and they were concussion anti-tank grenades that were made
of plastic explosive (Composition C) which was seven times more powerful than TNT.  I threw one
through the opening.  It sounded like a bomb going off.

I knew that would bring more Germans, so I ran in the direction of the road I had been following, all the
while expecting to see more Germans coming to investigate the grenade I had thrown.  I took cover in a
shallow ditch beside a hedgerow facing the road.  I dug a small slit trench expecting artillery or bombers
as there was a lot of traffic on the road.

During those three days I had marked German artillery, tanks, command posts and anything else that
needed to be destroyed on my map.  I was using my trench knife trying to make a hole to stick my head
in if any artillery shells started coming my way.

The traffic on the road was moving toward the Merderet River.  This road ran from Saint Mere Eglise
north crossing the river and up the Cotentin Peninsula to the port of Cherbourg.  Just as I thought, I could
hear American artillery shells coming.  The barrage came down back of me along the pasture and farm
house and along the hedgerow I was beside.

I buried my head in the hole I had scratched out and prayed with all my heart that a shell didn't hit a tree
and spray me with shrapnel.  When it was over I was covered with dirt ~ and even though I had my ears
covered with my hands and my mouth open ~ it was a day or two before my hearing got back to normal.
I'm not sure what they were trying to hit, but I don't think it was the cows in the orchard or the farm house
I had just left.  I had been under several barrages by our Navy early in the week.  Of all the bombing,
strafing and artillery barrages, the Navy's big guns were the most frightening to me.

After the barrage I spotted a German 88 just across from me in a curve on the road.  These gun
emplacements were well protected by mines and booby traps.  They were so concealed with natural
growth it was hard to see them.

Then I saw two Germans appear on the road from nowhere.  A few minutes later a truck came up the
road and stopped on the curve.  Several soldiers jumped off and the two standing on the road climbed on.
The truck turned around and went back the way it had come.  I knew it had to be a gun position.  I had
marked several of these gun positions on my map that week.

I had good cover and could see anything that moved on the road.  For about an hour everything got quiet.
Nothing was moving, and then the sounds of battle broke out again down the road.  I knew our troops
couldn't be far away.

About 10 a.m., I heard something coming that sounded like a tank.  It was a US reconnaissance half-track
with a big star on its side.  I wanted so bad to warn them of what was ahead, but there was no way.  It
was too late.

There were three half-tracks.  The first two got by, but the last one got a direct hit from the 88mm that was
in front of me.  One of the men was thrown from the half-track when it blew up.  He got up and started
running across the field in my direction, when two Germans from the 88mm crew came out and yelled for
him to halt.

Just as they raised their rifles to shoot, I fired a few rounds and they hightailed it back to their position.
The soldier had hit the ground.  I didn't know if he had been injured when blown from the half-track and
had passed out, or was trying to keep from being shot.

I waved and yelled for him to come on, but he didn't move.  They didn't shoot at him and I was afraid if I
tried going out and pulling him in the ditch it would get both of us killed.  They kept me penned down
with rifle fire for several minutes before things got quiet.  They weren't worried about me as much as they
were about what might be coming down the road.

The first two half-tracks got into trouble on up the road.  Some of the soldiers that were in them were
captured and brought where we were.  I was praying that our troops would be coming up the road any
minute and destroy the 88.

An hour went by and nothing happened.  By this time I was sure they had the area covered around me
and it would be only a matter of time before they would make their move.  I had no choice but to stay
put and pray.  I buried my radio and waited.

I watched the soldier lying in the field wounded or dead.  He had not moved from where he fell.  There
wasn't much I could do to help him.  Knowing that I was going to be killed or taken prisoner anyway, I
thought of trying to surrender so the Germans could take him to a field hospital if he was still alive.

Not many troopers were captured the first few days of the invasion and I didn't think I would be captured.
I waited, hoping for our troops to show up behind tanks come up the road.

It wasn't long before I heard someone coming up the hedgerow.  I raised to a crouching position on one
knee when the brush parted a few yards in front of me and a German shouted, "Handy-ho, handy-ho"
(hands up).

I said "Handy-ho, hell!" and fired point-blank at him, but the second time I pulled the trigger my rifle was
jammed.  The empty brass from the first shot had not extracted from the chamber.  I hit the ground flat
just as the Germans fired at me and rolled over on my side to retrieve my trench knife from my boot to
pry the stuck brass out of the chamber.  I would have surrendered at this point if I had known they
weren't going to kill me.

They thought they had hit me when I flattened out on the ground and didn't shoot back, or they would
have thrown a hand grenade to take care of me.  Just a few moments later while I was trying to get the
brass out, I felt something sticking me in the back.  I looked up to see two Germans with fixed bayonets.
I remember saying, "Don't shoot," as I dropped my rifle and knife. They kept asking me if I was wounded.
I told them no.  I just knew they were going to shoot me.  This all happened a lot faster than it took me to
write these few remarks.  They were surprised that I wasn't hit.

The soldier that I had fired at was bleeding from the mouth where a piece of his lip was missing.  He must
have turned his head to the side just as I fired.  His buddies put a bandage on it to help stop the bleeding.
He didn't seem to be mad, just scared and very white.

After they searched and disarmed me, they gave me all the tea to drink I wanted.  They asked for my
cigarettes.  We sat there awhile smoking and trying to understand what the other was saying.  They told
me the officers would take everything from me when they got me back to their headquarters and all they
wanted was my cigarettes ~ and I happily surrendered the few packs I had.  We had another smoke
before they took me to their headquarters.