A PATHFINDER’S VIEW
I HAVE OFTEN BEEN ASKED WHAT it was like to take part in the airborne preparations for Normandy as a pathfinder. All of us in the 82d Airborne, paratroopers and glidermen alike, were moved from our camp training grounds in central England to various major airfields at the end of May. We occupied cots set up for us in massive hangers emptied of their aircraft, and we were “sealed in,” confined to the airfields without leave, telephone or outgoing mail. The usual rumormongers actively spread invasion fables, while poker and crap games flourished. Chow lines were 75 yards long, and everybody was busy writing letters home or to our new girlfriends in Leicester, Loughborough and Quorn, where our 505 PIR “tent city” camp had been located.
At least 75 percent of our RCT were combat veterans. We knew exactly what to expect on the upcoming mission: incoming mortar rounds, the terrifying German 88s, machine pistols (burp guns), and one-on-one attacks against machine gun nests. The problem now was the waiting game, and I can tell you, it gave a soldier plenty of time to think. Those of us who knew the probability of getting killed or getting an arm or leg blown off experienced nervous anxiety and tension. We had seen “it” happen to our comrades while fighting in Sicily and Italy within the previous year, so death and injury was not fiction to us, but fact. The days leading up to the expected take-off on the night of June 4 were fitful and disquieting. We had all of our weapons, ammunition, grenades and K-rations ready, as well as everything else we could pack in our jump suit pockets and musette bag. Other combat necessities were stuffed in the gas mask bag, including gum and candy. Many of us left without the gas mask!