Dutch Schultz's actual D-Day
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of that, Dutch almost did not jump on D-Day.
Sometime in the middle of May, I was approached by my Company Commander, Captain Anthony Stefanich, who said, "Dutch, there's a possibility that you can't make the D-Day parachute jump and will have to come in with the landing troops. We're a little short of space on the C-47s. There are five in the company that are going to come in with the first wave.” I didn't respond. I looked at him and I don't know what my look was but he stopped talking in mid sentence and said, "Well, wait a minute. I'll see what I can do for you." I didn't know whether he was doing me a favor or not. I had no true desire to actually jump on Fortress Europe but nevertheless I did not want to come in by boat. I would've been ashamed if I had been required to do that. I was a paratrooper and I expected to jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game.
I was involved in a crap game, where I had won $2500.00. I had a lucky streak and had broken everyone in the game except for a Staff Sergeant whom I disliked intensely, and who had about $50.00 dollars left. I was bound and determined to take all of his money. That was dumb to put my kind of money against what he had left. I didn't know any better, being a novice at this. My luck changed and I lost the $2500.00. I’m one of the characters mentioned in Connie Ryan's, The Longest Day. He had this crap game taking place at the airfield, which is not actually true. It took place at Camp Quorn, a couple of days before we left to go to this airfield. Ryan felt that I was a good Catholic boy and a good Catholic boy shouldn't be betting so in the book and movie, he had me losing the money because of my religious convictions. That really was not the case. I was trying to humiliate a guy I disliked. I remember after losing this money and giving it some serious thought, I rationalized it by saying that I'm convinced had I really won that money, I would have been killed. I never would have had an opportunity to spend it. That's the way I rationalized it. I was convinced my chances of surviving D‑Day were much better because I had nothing left behind.
At the airfield, when we were boarding the planes, there was a terrible explosion. A Gammon Grenade, which we all carried it, accidentally went off and set a plane on fire. Every trooper was killed or injured except two. Those two got on other planes. They both were killed in Normandy. That portended for me some grave danger. I started to experience some honest to goodness anxiety. I remember getting on the plane, taking off. and reaching for my rosary.
It was a very clear night. I have little recollection of what was going on in the plane, because I was totally engrossed in rosaries. I saw a number of old timers sleeping and catching catnaps. Not me, I was praying. It must have been sometime close to 1:00 when we crossed over into France because after that our plane was taking evasive action. There was a lot of rocking and rolling. I looked out the window and thought I saw sparks coming out of the one of the engines. I turned to one of these veterans, and I said, "Look at those sparks coming out of the engines." He looked at me and said, "Sparks, hell. That's flak. That's Ack‑Ack." That was the first awareness I had that things weren't going to be like a practice jump.
Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet quickly, again went through the countdown and very quickly jumped.
I was eleventh or twelfth out of the plane. I remember my chute opening. I oscillated once and came down flat on my back, with no chance to come in with my feet up and roll. At the time, I did not feel any pain. I quickly cut myself out of the chute. I started to look around for somebody and found nobody. I was in a little field surrounded by hedgerows. I threw away my gas mask and land mine because I couldn't move with all that heavy stuff. I threw away a few other things, so I could navigate with some speed. I dashed to the closest hedgerow and wondered what the hell was going on. I thought I heard something. I used my cricket and clicked. In return I got a machine gun burst. I proceeded to bring my M‑1 up and point it at the direction where I thought the fire was coming from. I discovered I had failed to load my M‑1. Needless to say, I was quick to grab a clip of ammunition and get it in the gun, but by that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
Dutch Schultz enlisted in the Army in March 1942. After basic training at Camp Wallace, Texas, he was assigned to an anti-aircraft unit protecting the Navy yard in Portsmouth, Virginia. He soon tired of this duty, wanting to get into a combat situation and volunteered for the paratroopers in the summer of 1943. After jump school, he joined the 82nd in December, 1943 in Belfast, Ireland, eventually being assigned to C Company of the 505 PIR in Camp Quorn, England. Dutch became a member of the 82nd Airborne boxing team and as a result, did a minimum of paratrooper field training, focusing instead on boxing, and becoming the Regimental welter weight boxing champion. Because of t jump, not to come in with landing troops.
Four or five days passed after Captain Stef talked to me. He caught me on the company street and appeared joyful. He said, "Dutch, we made it. You're gonna be able to make the jump." I thanked him. I was assigned to jump with one of the squads of the mortar platoon of the company headquarters. And my platoon leader was Lieutenant Jack Tallerday, who was the Executive Officer of the Company.
A few days before D-Day, Dutch was in a crap game. Not long after that we were told to stand and hook up. In the process of doing that, we were all knocked to the floor. I don't know whether we were hit by flak or whether one of the maneuvers was sharp. We got back on our feet qy that time there was no point in firing.
I kept moving around the hedgerows. I had no idea where I was going. I recall how frightened I was and how totally unprepared I was to be by myself. American Navy battlewagons were beginning to bombard Normandy. I could hear these tremendous shells coming over head sounding like locomotives, huge and thunderous.
I kept walking, looking for somebody. We jumped somewhere around 1:00 and I was by myself until daylight. It wasn't until 6:30 that I ran into my platoon leader and jumpmaster, Lieutenant Jack Tallerday.
During that time I was alone, I can't begin to remember what I was feeling. I know I was frightened. I was never so happy to see anybody as I was to see Jack Tallerday come around a hedgerow. We greeted one another happily. He said, "Come with me”. He had been lost too but managed to pick up a bunch of stragglers from other outfits. I didn't know them. There were a couple from the 101st Airborne and some from the 82nd’s 507 or the 508. When we went into Normandy, the 505 Regiment was the only regiment with combat time. The 504 Regiment was our sister regiment who had jumped in Sicily and Italy but didn't make the Normandy jump because they had been fighting in Anzio for a long time. These stragglers were just as scared as I was and just as unknowledgeable. We had jumped about six to ten kilometers away from our Drop Zone. It took us two or three hours to get where the fighting was. We heard artillery and mortar fire.
I had the strangest feelings. Remembrances of that walk back to our Drop Zone. There was the tranquility, the peace on one hand. It's almost like taking a walk in the country on a Sunday afternoon, very peaceful. Normandy is a very beautiful, lush green country; and then having that tranquility, that quietude shattered by the violence of artillery or mortar fire. Again the peace would come and then the noise, the violence. The peace and the violence.
We went on. At one point we had stopped. I remember breaking away from the group when I saw a paratrooper. I started talking to him. He had his M‑1 out in front of him. He was lying on his stomach in a prone position and he didn't respond. I knelt down and looked at him and realized he was dead. I saw a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I didn't see much blood; that was what was so amazing about this. I saw some white fluid on the back of one of his hands. I know that I was so shocked, I got away from there. I couldn't even grasp the significance of this. It was the first dead man that I'd ever seen in my whole life. He looked so alive from a distance. I went back to where the group was.
Then Lieutenant Tallerday told us to "Wait here." He was going ahead to do some reconnoitering and he'd be back in a half an hour. We were sitting down and smoking cigarettes and talking nonsensical stuff.
An hour went by and we began to worry he wasn't coming back. We decided to head down the road in single file. We came upon a number of dead and wounded troopers, all over the road. One of the people I saw there was Jack Tallerday, laying on the side of the road. I was convinced he was dead. I didn't bother to go check him because there was no movement. He was totally white. I couldn't believe what was happening. I made no effort to go over to him. As it turned out, he had been hit, and the original medic and several others that followed over-loaded him with morphine. He had all appearances of being dead.
We continued to walk. As we were walking we were coming into more violence, more fire power coming from both the Americans and the Germans. It scattered us to some extent. We got off the road and moved in along the hedgerow and ultimately came to a field, an apple orchard. We were sitting there and the Krauts zeroed in on us with mortars. There were probably 35 or 40 of us paratroopers in this area. We scattered in all four directions because they were really pumping those mortars in.
There was a total lack of organization. Our Battalion Commander, Major Kellam, had been killed in the morning. Our Battalion Executive Officer, Major McGinty, was also killed. Two or three of the Battalion staff officers were also killed. Captain Stef had been seriously wounded, our Company Commander. Tallerday was out of action. All of our Platoon Leaders were wounded except one. Most of our Assistant Platoon Leaders were wounded. I didn't see any officers or senior NCOs. Most of us that were in this group were in combat for the first time.
We were headed for La Fiere Bridge which spanned the Meredet River. This bridge was on the Ste. Mere Eglise to Picauville Road, close to Manor La Fiere. That was where we were supposed to be. I don't remember being at the bridge on the first day. I do remember an awful lot of gunfire. I remember being exposed to an awful lot of mortars coming from the Germans. I did not see anybody that afternoon that I knew except General Gavin in the late afternoon. General Gavin took charge right away. He started gathering us together, new comers like me.
He proceeded to assign us locations along the railroad tracks. We dug in foxholes and spent the night there. I have never in my life heard anything as eerie as an 88mm artillery shell. They hit before you even hear it. They have this horrible sound as they hit. Sometime during the night, I heard one of these 88s come in and it had struck a foxhole or two because I heard this horrendous screaming and screaming and screaming. It seemed like it lasted eternally. I know it was further down the line. I don't know who it was who got hit. I know that I was alone by then. I didn't know anybody. I was in a hole next to somebody but I didn't know him. I'm not sure that I got any sleep that night. If I did, I don't recollect it.
This baptism of fire was beyond all expectations I had about what war was like. It was a horrible experience. I'm ever, ever so grateful that I had the experience. I feel that I
served with some of the bravest and most courageous men of WWII. For that I'm ever so proud. I wasn't prepared for any of this combat. Again, I go back to the fact that had I to do it over again, I "sure as hell" would not have joined that boxing team when I first joined the 505. But be that as it may, that's the way it was.
