Burns Dwayne - Jump into the valley of the shadow: the war memories of Dwayne Burns communications sergeant-508th Parachute Infantry Regiment

No one is to be off base for any reason.

Woody, this is serious business, I said.

It was the 28th of May and the Red Devils of the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment had just packed and left their camp at Nottingham, England. We were making a run by truck to Saltby Airfield. Woody Phelps rode beside me. Our truck drivers drove us right across the grass field taxi-ways and we couldnt help but notice there were curls of barbed wire all along the perimeter, with several guards stationed at the gate. Our C-47 troop carriers and the Waco gliders used by other airborne troops were having broad black and white stripes added to their otherwise drab olive coating.

Yeah, Woody answered. Look at the new paint jobs on all the planes and gliders!

War paint, came the voice of Ramon Prieto from somewhere behind me.

For months and months we had trained to be a fighting force. A year ago I had started training with the heavy machine gun and mortar. Then I joined the paratroopers. After earning my wings I was sent to communications school and my new specialty became radio operator and field telephone installer. There were hundreds of different training stories among the men but we all started a new job at Saltby Airfield. There our assignment was to wait. The junior officers and sergeants got the last minute checks underway and these we performed over and over. Early upon arriving, each company was introduced to a room where the top brass had set up sand tables with a mockup of the French countryside, all laid out with the division drop zones marked and displayed. German gun emplacements were pointed out and anti-glider poles were plotted in from reconnaissance photos.

The more intelligence looked at the photos the more enemy positions they found, and each time we looked at the sand table there were more emplacements and plots. We would be facing the Germans 243rd Division, their 709th and 352nd Divisions, and, as a latecomer, the 91st Air Landing Division. God alone knew what else they had waiting that our recon had failed to discover.

At first I was impressed with what army intelligence knew and the efforts they made to inform us. But as the next several days passed more items were added to the tables until, after a while, everyone started wishing army intelligence would just stop looking, or else keep it to themselves.

The waiting was a hard duty to pull. We knew what was coming; it was just a matter of when. Some called it Operation Overlord, most referred to it as D-Day. The one thing I was certain of was that someday had come. Before now it had always been, but not today. I knew someday was out there. But when I was enjoying my last leave in Fort Worth, Texas and asking my girl Minerva to become my fiance, it seemed a long way off. After reaching the Irish coast someday was still a distant date, and even after we settled into Nottingham and the regiment became attached to the 82nd Airborne Division, the troopers trained during the day, swung freely at night, and we didnt worry about someday. Today, however, there were no more tomorrows to live, unless I counted war as living. I tried to stay busy and keep my mind on something else, to think of another time. Fort Worth, Texas was home but it seemed like another world now. It was a past life.

I remember on Induction Day sitting towards the back of the bus when John McGee got on. He looked around, saw me and sauntered my way. I soon learned that John never walked, but always had a Texas saunter, a stride like a slow, southern drawl in motion. He was a nice-looking kid with sandy brown hair and a prominent nose. He was slim as a rail and sported a mischievous grin.

Sticking out a strong, bony hand he introduced himself to me for the first time, Hi, Im John McGee. You headed for the draft board?

I told him who I was and he was right, the draft board in Dallas was exactly where I was headed.

He then flopped down on my bench seat saying, Well we may as well go together.

That started a tremendous friendship. It was May 11, 1943, the day I began one of the biggest changes of my life.

John and I were on the bus early that morning. We waited while it filled up with a bunch of other inductees. Then we were taken to Dallas for our physicals.

When the physicals started we were both full of quips and smart aleck remarks, enjoying the camaraderie of our induction day. Late in the afternoon, after we were allowed to dress, our processing ended in a large lecture hall with many other guys.