THE FRONTLINES WERE ADJUSTED AND SETTLED by 1500 hours on June 9. The defense areas of the 325 (including the 2/401) and 507 were finally somewhat orderly while digging in. About 1800 hours, an enemy artillery barrage along the entire front occupied by the 325 and 507 began with heavy force of impact and explosions. A large amount of enemy mortar fire began raining in on Companies E and F 401/325 with most of it hitting Captain Harney’s men. Harney (F/401), in the front of the line, could see the German infantry crossing the open fields, forming up for a new attack. Major Gardner, 3/325, had promised more support in the form of reinforcements, but none appeared. The men ducked in their holes during the mortar fire, but when it ceased they quickly rose up and fired at the enemy, full blast. They beat off that attack even before the American artillery could help out. Fortunately, a tank gave them support with its machine gun and cannon.
They were a lonely group until the 1/325 (in the gray castle attack at 2300 hours on 8 June), now free to move about, came up to the line with G/325 ready to plug the gap. Captain Robert Rae, 507, and his men had been put in reserve, but they were also under mortar fire. Most of the Germans who got up close in this last attack were killed on the spot. By 1900 hours the 325 GIR men that were supposed to go over the causeway had arrived and were dug in. The men of the 3/325 (2/401) and 1/325 had been through as terrible a battle as possible and had whipped the enemy. Many found their last resting place in the American Cemetery with their 82d Airborne Division comrades at Colleville-sur-Mer, above Omaha Beach.
The Battle Winds Down
At 2100 hours, General Gavin found Captain Rae digging himself a foxhole for the night. Rae had most certainly earned his pay during the action of that morning and afternoon. The incoming mortar fire was still falling. Gavin told Rae, “I want you to take your men and go forward.” Rae asked “How far?” and Gavin said, “Go to town.” So Robert Rae left his position, got his 507 troops, and proceeded to Le Motey. He had no opposition except sniper fire. They arrived just before dark without any skirmishing and were not engaged that night. Most of Rae’s 507 Provisional Company paratroopers (a mixed pick-up group) had come through the day with little harm, but they accomplished every job assigned to them.
On the right, Captain Harney was making his final advance on Le Motey with three tanks and support to the right of the main road. This was the same area where E/325 had been shot up about noontime. Second Lieutenant Leo J. Fitzmartin had two tanks blast away at hedgerows and a few houses, but the German machine guns were still in operation. It was still clear and daylight. Fitzmartin decided that they could easily flank the gun, so he had four enlisted men follow behind him. In the center of the field (the worst place to be in a hedgerow battle), the German machine gun killed the four men and hit Fitzmartin, who then played dead. The gun did not fire again and no one tried to take it out that night. Fitzmartin could hear the Germans talking all night, but he couldn’t move or get back to his lines, and his men obviously thought he was dead. At 0700 the next morning on 10 June, his platoon moved across the field and found him alive. The enemy machine gun had vanished without a trace.
The occupation of Le Motey was otherwise without incident. Harney and Rae built a solid defense zone with heavy machine guns. However, after the battle and just as it was getting dark, the tanks took off due to sporadic enemy 88mm fire along the road. Although Le Motey was beyond the Cauquigny bridgehead, it was not attacked. However, both sides of the bridgehead were shelled all night.
Relief Force
At 0200 hours on June 10, Lieutenant Colonel Sitler, commander of the 1/325, was notified to provide guides to escort the newly arrived 357th Infantry Regiment of the 90th Division, which was going to pass through the 325 GIR positions and cross the Merderet. At 0400 hours, the 2/357 started across La Fière causeway and moved into as many foxholes of the 325 as possible. Just as A/505 and the 1st Battalion 505 had denied any German to cross over La Fière bridge easterly since 1030 hours on June 6, the 3/325 and provisional 507 company had, again, after June 9, never allowed the enemy access over the bridgehead from Cauquigny.
Lieutenant General Heinz Hellmich, commanding the German 243rd Division and elements of the 709th and 91st Division, was ordered to hold the Montebourg-Quienéville line at all costs. The German 84th Corps requested aircraft against the big US Navy guns that were assisting the 4th Division, which was progressing up the east coast. Hellmich got little air support, although German aircraft were present on rare occasion. The American supplies coming in off Utah, Omaha, and the British beaches were building up every hour, adding up to 150,000 Allied liberators, including naval personnel.
The 82d Airborne Division paratroopers and glidermen continued the fight westerly everyday until July 11, when they went into First Army reserve and were moved to Utah Beach for transport back to England. The 505 got many of its wounded and hospitalized men returned to the regiment. For some, it was just in time to return to the 82d/505 and get in on the beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon daylight combat jump over Groesbeek, Holland, as part of Operation Market-Garden on September 17, 1944.
I myself was wounded in the A/505 attack on Montebourg railroad station and spent over 50 days in the hospital. The large piece of shrapnel was removed on July 7, my 19th birthday, which I have kept until this day as a souvenir from the German army. On discharge from the hospital, I refused to accept a transfer out of the 82d to a non-airborne combat unit. I tore up the papers, got to a bus and went directly to my A/505 “family” comrades. Then we were on our way to Holland, the first men in on 17 September 1944.(1)
The Merderet River, the Louis Leroux Manoir de La Fière and the little bridge over the causeway elicit stirring memories for me and all of the survivors of the battle. We were the lucky ones. For many of our comrades, such sights were their last. I have visited the fallen in the American Cemetery in Normandy almost every year, to let them know we have not forgotten them. Since 1994, the Iron Mike paratrooper statue has also overlooked the restored Manoir, La Fière bridge and the causeway—now peaceful, but once the scene of long and vicious battle.