Where we were

May / June 1944

The 321st Glider Field Artillery Battalion of the 101st Airborne Division had been training in the United Kingdom since the middle of September 1943 when, during the last week of May 1944 we packed our organizational and individual equipment and moved to a marshaling area in Wales for movement to France.

When we left Whatcombe Farm, the battalion’s home station, there was a sense of relief and anticipation. We were relieved that the long period of training was over. We were not eager for the dangers of combat from which we knew that some of us would not return, but we did anticipate testing our skills against the German Army in the field. We knew that Germany was an evil entity and had to be defeated and we were ready and willing to assist in defeating her. There was a job to be done and we were willing to play our part in completing that job. We didn’t express it that way but we felt it. Witness the many derogatory comments about the “krauts.”

We had trained not only at Whatcombe Farm but conducted service practice on the Salisbury Plain and participated in Exercise Tiger in the vicinity of Slapton Sands which closely resembled the Normandy coast line on which the United States First Army was to land. The airborne activity was simulated. Parachute elements were formed into sticks just as we would be if we were loaded into C-47s. In the exercise the 321st was DS of the 506th and so the parachute FO teams went out with that regiment. At about 0300 the sticks began walking across the simulated drop zones. Every 50 feet the last man in the stick would drop off. This continued until all sticks had “jumped.” Upon a signal we assembled and moved out on our missions. Glider elements, including the 321st, simulated landing beginning at 0630 and went into position. We fired our howitzers while there.

After our work was done down there we had an afternoon off. A few of us went into Tourquay and found a delightful hotel bar which had a large curved window which gave a splendid view of the English Channel. Inasmuch as almost all civilians had been cleared from the area we had the bar to ourselves. The usual boisterous drinking was absent. It’s had to believe but we were in a contemplative mood and so the conversation was subdued. Some of us talked about our upcoming journey across that channel and others just looked out lost in their own thoughts. Let’s face it, we all knew that some of us were not to return from that crossing.

We returned to Whatcome Farm and in a couple of weeks were alerted for movement to a marshaling area in Wales from which we would board a ship. In the marshaling area we lived in tents which, in the late English spring of 1944, were comfortable. There was, of course, the incessant checking of equipment. No one wanted to be checking out their equipment when we arrived in France.

One other event from those days stands out in my memory. Like many soldiers, we in the Detail Section played a lot of cards. So much so that we had worn out all but one deck which belonged to me. As smart as he was, Walter Mitchell could not resist drawing to an inside straight. The odds being what they were, I never saw Walter make his straight. In the last poker game before we left the marshaling area he threw away one card and said, “I’ll take one.” I knew that Walter was once again living on the edge. Sure enough, he drew a deuce to that inside straight and got so mad that he tore it up. There went my deck and our chance to while away any idle hours with a game of cards. I was angry. “Walter,” I said, “that’s the last time you play with a deck of my cards.” Today that sounds like the precursor to the well-known Hollywood saying, “You’ll never eat lunch in this town again”

Our battalion had been divided into three parts for the trip to France. A rear echelon remained behind at Whatcombe Farm. Howitzers, vehicles and all other equipment, along with skeleton crews, had been sent to another marshaling area in order to board the SS John Morseby, The remainder of us went as passengers on the transport, USS Susan B. Anthony.

On the morning of June 7, D+1, she struck a mine. This mine packed a fearsome punch. The ship rolled and shook from the force of the explosion and she was soon dead in the water. Several minutes after we hit the mine, I saw a few seamen with their heads bandaged come up on deck from below. They were the only casualties I saw.

The area around us was crowded with ships of the United States Navy and the Royal Navy and so I wasn’t at all concerned about being rescued. Cargo nets were lowered over the side and we began disembarking into a Royal Navy DE. Waves were two to three feet high and the DE was pitching and rolling, making it difficult to jump from the net into it. The last time I had climbed down a cargo net was on the firm land of Fort Eustis, Virginia during basic training. That exercise was quite different from the real thing which we were attempting now. However, as far as I could see, everyone made it down safely thanks in large part to the help of the Royal Navy seamen who held the cargo nets and shouted advise to us. Soon a United States Navy landing craft pulled alongside. We went over the side into her. There were many soldiers in that craft; so many that it was impossible to move around or to sit. It was so crowded that I climbed over the side onto a ledge about 18 inches wide and sat there with nothing between me and the water. After about 30 minutes a German fighter aircraft came screaming across the bridgehead on a strafing run. Before I could think about it, she was jumped by two American fighters which had been loitering in the sun waiting for just such an occasion. When last seen, the German was headed inland trailing much black smoke. This convinced me that my position outside of the landing craft was insecure and so I climbed back into the crowd.

Soon after the attack we landed on the shore at Utah Beach. I realize that the 4th Infantry Division which made the assault on Utah Beach did not have as much difficulty as did the 1st Infantry division at Omaha Beach but Utah Beach was a mess. Boats were damaged and lay beached. Army equipment and weapons were all over. There was even the abandoned desk and files of a company clerk. Next to them was a tennis racquet. That must have been carried by one optimistic soldier. I hoped that no Frenchman in Normandy was waiting for him to keep a tennis date. I knew that I was at war but was impressed with this by the mines that the Germans had laid over so much of the area. Achtung Minen in black paint on red background was everywhere. I couldn’t understand why the Germans had been kind enough to warn us of their mines. I suppose that it was for the safety of their own personnel and that they didn’t have time to remove their warnings.

We assembled just over the dunes and dug in. This was the first time I had dug in. We had never done this in training and no non-commissioned officers or officers came around to see if we had dug in correctly. (Soon I would decide that I had not dug in deeply enough.)

William J. Stone
Battery B, 321st Glider FA Bn