The African sun, like a bloody curious eye, hung on the rim of the world as hundreds of airplane engines coughed into life, spewing miniature dust storms across the flat wastes of a desert airfield.
Thin aluminum skins of C-47s vibrated like drawn snare drums and as paratroopers heaved themselves up into the planes and sought their predesignated seats, they wrinkled their noses at the smell of gasoline and lacquer that flooded the planes’ interiors.
Spearheading the airborne invasion of Sicily, the 3rd Battalion, 504th Parachute Infantry, crossed the North African coast as the sun flared briefly, then plummeted into the Mediterranean. Flak rose thinly into the dusky sky ahead-probably Malta, the paratroopers grimly thought.
Detached from the regiment for tactical requirements, the 3rd Battalion crossed over the Sicilian coast on schedule and jumped on its assigned drop zone, July 9, 1943 – the first Allied troops to land in the invasion that Prime Minister Winston Churchill termed, “not the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning”.
For two days the men of the 3rd Battalion fought an enemy superior in numbers and equipment. By D+3 it had achieved its initial mission and was returned to regimental control.
On July 11, the remainder of the regiment, led by Col. R. H. Tucker, loaded into planes and took off from the dusty airstrips around Kairouan, Tunisia. As the planes cruised over the churning sea, all was quiet; some closed their eyes and prayed that it would remain quiet, while others anxiously craned their necks to peer ahead or to look down at the whitecapped waves which tossed fifteen feet below the planes.
Nearing the Sicilian coast, the formation of C-47s was fired upon by a naval vessel. Immediately, as though upon a prearranged signal, other vessels fired. Planes dropped out of formation and crashed into the sea. Others, like clumsy whales, wheeled and attempted to get beyond the flak which rose in fountains of fire, lighting the stricken faces of men as they stared through the windows.
More planes dived into the sea and those that escaped broke formation and raced like a covey of quail for what they thought was the protection of the beach. But they were wrong. Over the beach they were hit again-this time by American ground units, who, having seen the naval barrage, believed the planes to be German. More planes fell and from some of them, men jumped and escaped alive; the less fortunate were riddled by flak before reaching the ground.
Fired upon by our own Navy and shore troops, in one of the greatest tragedies of World War II, the 504th Parachute Infantry, less the 3rd Battalion, was scattered like chaff in the wind over the length and breadth of Sicily Island. Col. Tucker’s plane, after twice flying the length of the Sicilian coast and with over 2000 flak holes through the fuselage, reached the DZ near Gela; however, few others were as fortunate and by morning only 400 of the regiment’s 1600 men (excluding the 3rd Battalion) had reached the regimental area.
Other plane loads of 504 men dropped in isolated groups on all parts of the island, and although unable to join the regiment, carried out demolitions, cut lines of communication, established inland road-blocks, ambushed German and Italian motorized columns, and caused confusion over such extensive areas behind the enemy lines that initial German radio reports estimated the number of American parachutists dropped to be over ten times the number actually participating!
On the 13th of July, with the 3rd Battalion returned to regimental control and with about half of the remainder of the regiment assembled in the vicinity of Agrigento, the 504 moved out in the attack, spearheading the coastal drive of the 82nd Airborne Division. With Italian light tanks, motorcycles, horses, bicycles, mules, trucks, and even wheelbarrows for transportation, the regiment pressed forward; a cocky, spirited bunch of “mechanized” paratroopers heading into battle.
Resistance, for the most part, was light; the Germans had withdrawn to the North and East, leaving behind garrisons of Italian soldiers who would fire a few shots, and having ” saved face ” (and other portions of their respective anatomies) would raise the white flag of surrender. The grueling Mediterranean sun, however, told on the foot-weary paratroopers; it was march, march, march, day and night-they prayed for the enemy to make a stand so that they could stop and fight-and rest. For five days and nights this continued, and in an outstanding tribute to the physical stamina of parachute troops, men of the S04 walked and fought their way from Agrigento to St. Marguerita – a distance of 150 miles.
Having reached St. Marguerita, the regiment again parted from division and turned north toward Alcamo and Castellamare del Golfo. These towns were taken successfully and at Castellamare, the regiment assumed the duties of a policing force, which activity they continued for ten days. On the tenth day the 504 was shuttled by plane back to its base at Kairouan, North Africa.
Although the Sicilian operation was costly, both in lives and equipment, valuable experience was gained by those who survived, untold damage was inflicted behind enemy lines, many prisoners were captured (the 82nd Division was credited with 22,000), and Nazi and Fascist forces were given their first dose of a medicine that proved to be fatal-and one that they understandably feared. It was with this experience that the now-veteran 504 returned to Africa to prepare for the invasion of the Italian mainland.