. . . probably not a memory point for many here, but I’ll note today as “D Day.” My father was a paratrooper, landing behind German lines in the area of St Mére Église the night before arrival of the Allies’ sea invasion. With his Company, they secured a bridge that was vital to German troop movements between inland France & the Normandy coast, particularly Utah Beach . . . and then were instrumental in securing key control points along the coast. In renowned histories of the film. “The Longest Day,” & Tom Brokaw’s historic “The Greatest Generation,” the history of the fight of brave fighting men & women in this period is memorialized. From St Mére Église, my Dad landed in Casablanca & engaged in fighting through North Africa before returning to fight in Normandy, Holland, & Belgium as part of the largest & bloodiest battle in World War II, the “Battle of the Bulge.” He subsequently marched — with thousands of soldiers — into Paris as part of a “Liberation of Paris“ parade in August 1944. His Company bivouac’d in Paris’ Bois de Boulogne.
Let us not forget D-Day
- Thread starter cec1
- Start date
amyb
Senior Insider
So grateful for your Dad’s service and glad you shared with us.
Saline Man
SBH Insider
Without D-Day St Barth may not be a French island today.
elgreaux
Senior Insider
My father was in an infantry division and landed not too far behind your dad.. he subsequently served in France most of 1944-1946 - he got back to the US on April 1 (or so) 1946 and claims my mother was waiting on the dock with the rabbi to marry them - they had been engaged for 4 years by then - she says she gave him a few weeks to change his mind and they were married on April 14, 1946.. he passed away on their 59th wedding anniversary in 2005
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amyb
Senior Insider
A lovely story and great history, Ellen . . . very nice to read of their long married life!
An amazing story and we could not be more grateful for our service people 
. Thank you to all who have and continue to serve.
We spent August 25,1994 with our French friends in Paris at a parade for the 50th anniversary of the Liberation of Paris where the people were in costume and the original busses were parading up the Boulevards. The French people we were with had lived through the war and anyone who had experienced such terror really brought to life the incredible years in France. May all who had experienced such life rest in peace, knowing that the French people we knew and many we did not, acknowledged to us how grateful they were for the Americans such as Dennis’s father.
. Thank you to all who have and continue to serve. We spent August 25,1994 with our French friends in Paris at a parade for the 50th anniversary of the Liberation of Paris where the people were in costume and the original busses were parading up the Boulevards. The French people we were with had lived through the war and anyone who had experienced such terror really brought to life the incredible years in France. May all who had experienced such life rest in peace, knowing that the French people we knew and many we did not, acknowledged to us how grateful they were for the Americans such as Dennis’s father.
jamiem4
SBH Insider
So grateful to Dennis and Ellen and everyone for sharing. My father and father-in-law served in WW2. My father was a medic in the Army and supported evacuating the troops during the events Dennis described. My dad never spoke much of heading into the war and battles of WW2 but then he served in Korea. He was even more quiet about all the troops went through suffering in the cold while awaiting supplies and rescue / battlefield operations. When he finally returned home, the Vietnam War started, so my dad once again participated but from the US command side given his injuries in Korea. He came from a large Irish Catholic family (I think there were 10 siblings) and being the 2nd oldest, he lost a brother in Korea and 3 younger brothers in Vietnam. D-day was always a quiet and somber discussion growing up but we could not be more proud of our service men and women to this day.
Keeping in the theme, my husband is retired Air Force and we have kids who are still active duty. Our youngest is a Marine pilot and we are very proud of him although I wish he would text his mom occasionally that all is ok. The military ROTC and full scholarships the kids earned very much helped so we are very fortunate.
I thank Dennis and Ellen for posting these memories and how our families helped shape history. There are so many wonderful people on this forum, and it is a unique 'family' of sorts. While this post may be slightly off-topic, it shows others, especially those new to the forum that we all share travel, great food, great times, great people and experiences on St. Barts and other places, but we also share a bit of our own history...and we are not bots!
Keeping in the theme, my husband is retired Air Force and we have kids who are still active duty. Our youngest is a Marine pilot and we are very proud of him although I wish he would text his mom occasionally that all is ok. The military ROTC and full scholarships the kids earned very much helped so we are very fortunate.
I thank Dennis and Ellen for posting these memories and how our families helped shape history. There are so many wonderful people on this forum, and it is a unique 'family' of sorts. While this post may be slightly off-topic, it shows others, especially those new to the forum that we all share travel, great food, great times, great people and experiences on St. Barts and other places, but we also share a bit of our own history...and we are not bots!
Thank you, Jamie, for sharing this report. Your father certainly was heroic and a patriot . . . as your husband and entire family have shown to be. As years go by, D Day seems to lose meaning, unfortunately, for recent generations. Stories & acknowledgements like those posted here are important to preserving awareness of civic remembrances and personal sacrifices in pursuit of our treasured way of life.
Great stories all. Like many people who served they did not speak much about their time at war until their later years.
My father became a pilot at 21. The war effort needed both pilots and planes and this brand new pilot had to fly his plane to Europe to join the war. He was flying B 17 bombers.
There was a navigator who had a bad stomach. If you begged off a mission and your mates did not return you were treated like a black cat so the navigator flew the mission. No bathrooms on the bomber and the navigator not surprisingly had to answer the call of nature in a hurry and grabbed his flak helmet. Of course you know what happens next… the flak comes in fast and heavy, the navigator puts on his helmet and secured his nickname for the rest of the war.
Although my father flew many bombing missions his closest call happened while he was awol. He had some leave but not surprisingly was not too eager to come back and be shot at do he extended his trip a few days. Seemed to make sense to the 21 year old at the time. When ready to return to base he got a ride on a plane headed back near his base.
The weather was terrible, they were in the mountains with zero visibility. The plane iced up.With no communication from the pilot he left the cockpit put on an parachute and
jumped out of the plane and the co pilot quickly did the same. My father deduced that maybe he needed to do the same game plan.
He jumped out but his foot got stuck in the bomb bay window and he is hanging out of the plane. The little parachute training he received in flight school said do not pull your cord until you were well away from the plane.
This seemed to be an exception to the rule. He pulled the cord and became free from the plane.
Remember visibility was zero.
It was kind of eerily quiet on his way down but he starts hearing the empty plane descending and getting louder and louder.
He believed he was going to be hit by his own plane. Thank goodness for him and his wife and future 6 kids this did not happen.
When he got back to base the CO threatened him with a court martial for being awol and losing a plane but the CO needed pilots more than prisoners so it was back to work.
You grew up pretty fast in those days and perhaps justifiably lived every day like it could be your last. Miss you dad!
My father became a pilot at 21. The war effort needed both pilots and planes and this brand new pilot had to fly his plane to Europe to join the war. He was flying B 17 bombers.
There was a navigator who had a bad stomach. If you begged off a mission and your mates did not return you were treated like a black cat so the navigator flew the mission. No bathrooms on the bomber and the navigator not surprisingly had to answer the call of nature in a hurry and grabbed his flak helmet. Of course you know what happens next… the flak comes in fast and heavy, the navigator puts on his helmet and secured his nickname for the rest of the war.
Although my father flew many bombing missions his closest call happened while he was awol. He had some leave but not surprisingly was not too eager to come back and be shot at do he extended his trip a few days. Seemed to make sense to the 21 year old at the time. When ready to return to base he got a ride on a plane headed back near his base.
The weather was terrible, they were in the mountains with zero visibility. The plane iced up.With no communication from the pilot he left the cockpit put on an parachute and
jumped out of the plane and the co pilot quickly did the same. My father deduced that maybe he needed to do the same game plan.
He jumped out but his foot got stuck in the bomb bay window and he is hanging out of the plane. The little parachute training he received in flight school said do not pull your cord until you were well away from the plane.
This seemed to be an exception to the rule. He pulled the cord and became free from the plane.
Remember visibility was zero.
It was kind of eerily quiet on his way down but he starts hearing the empty plane descending and getting louder and louder.
He believed he was going to be hit by his own plane. Thank goodness for him and his wife and future 6 kids this did not happen.
When he got back to base the CO threatened him with a court martial for being awol and losing a plane but the CO needed pilots more than prisoners so it was back to work.
You grew up pretty fast in those days and perhaps justifiably lived every day like it could be your last. Miss you dad!
amyb
Senior Insider
Captain, this is one helluva tale. Thanks for sharing your Dad’s war exploits so vividly today.
A story worth retelling, for sure!
GMP62
Senior Insider
Extraordinary and frightening story, Captain. My father, too, served on a B17- the King Bee, as a waist gunner in WWII. He was stationed at Polbrook in England. The King Bee survived 25 missions before the boys came home. He never really spoke about the war much, as you stated. He came home in September of ‘43 and met his first child, a daughter, when she was 2 months old. Two brothers followed in ‘45 and ‘47. I wasn’t born until ‘62….oops!! A surprise but turned out to be daddy’s little girl!
In our basement, dad had an area he converted to a war memorial, if you will, with German maps and push pins noting the bombing missions, etc., and a hand written diary outlining every mission they flew. Dad’s bomber jacket, masks and other related items were displayed, including an actual German Luger (sp?). The King Bee now sits in the a Nebraska Aeronautical Museum. They were the Greatest Generation.
