Whistles blew, gangplank chains rattled, the lights of New York seemed to twinkle just a little brighter, and passengers on board the troopship George Washington — those who were still awake – said silent goodbyes to the “Old Lady ” who stood serenely at the entrance of New York harbor.
It was in the early morning hours of April 29, 1943, and aside from a few Red Cross donut girls, dock laborers, and military officials gathered on the pier, New York was unaware that anything out of the ordinary was happening. But to men on the troopship, men of the 504th Parachute Infantry, this was a special occasion. They were tough, but they were human, too, and more than one paratrooper swallowed twice when he looked up at the Statue of Liberty and realized that he was going to take that Lady’s place on the other side of the ocean. The full impact of the occasion hadn’t struck home until now; the 504 was going overseas!
The 504 was activated on May 1, 1942, at Fort Benning, Georgia, and consisted of men from all walks of life, engineers, farmers, efficiency experts, professional soldiers, glass cutters, students, and a few professional parachutists. In August 1942, the regiment was made a part of the 82nd Airborne Division, and thus became the oldest parachute regiment in the oldest airborne division in the United States Army.
Fort Bragg, North Carolina, was the camp where the 82nd Airborne was whipped into shape for overseas combat duty, and it was from here that the 504, with leggings in place of jump boots and with all patches removed for security reasons, departed for the port of embarkation.
Days at sea were highlighted by concerts by the division band and by the incessant squawking of a voice on the loudspeaker that repeatedly informed all passengers, ” Charley Noble is smoking”. Most men wondered who Charley Noble was, and why it was a matter of such universal interest if he did have a drag now and then. They later found that “Charley Noble” was Navy terminology for the galley stack, which, probably as allergic to Navy food as were the paratroopers, was emitting clouds of black smoke and thus advertising the ship’s location to any enemy submarines that might have been lurking in the area.
Rumors, as usual, were flying thick and fast and concerned everything from guesses about the regiment’s ultimate destination to the welcome information that a contingent of WACs would board ship when the George Washington reached the Azores.
Quarters were crowded and the food, if it could be called such, was poorly prepared — it was with sighs of relief that the men awakened on the morning of May 10, 1943, and sighted land. That afternoon they found themselves at anchor in the North African port of Casablanca. Rick’s Cafe, and other showplaces seen in the movie ” Casablanca ” were nowhere to be seen, and aside from the fact that any land looked better at that time than the ocean, men of the regiment weren’t too favorably impressed with the white buildings, hot sun, and dirty Arab children that swarmed over the docks. With an “I’m ready to go home” attitude and loaded down with barracks bags and full field equipment, they stumbled down the gangplank and for the first time, set foot on foreign soil.
An eight-mile walk under a broiling African sun ended at the paratroopers’ new “home”, which consisted of little more than a few stone huts and a pyramidal tent city erected on the desert wastes south of Casablanca. The first four days, filled with inspections, restrictions and various other nightmares characteristic of army life, passed slowly; the weather grew progressively worse and food, which consisted for the most part of “C” rations, followed the same trend. Rumors of an impending move, however, soon became reality and the regiment loaded onto antiquated 40 and 8’s for a move north to Oujda, Algeria. The 40 and 8, in the days of World War I, represented the cargo that one boxcar would supposedly carry 40 men or eight horses. Paratroopers on that journey, however, were inclined to believe that the figures represented a time schedule; eight miles in 40 minutes.
The camp at Oujda offered little change from the one at Casablanca. Training was intensified, reviews and parades were given for high Allied generals, and the atmosphere, in addition to the ever-present heat and dust, was filled with the tenseness that always precedes a parachute mission. Generals Eisenhower, Clark, and Patton, the Sultan of Morocco, and officials from every Allied nation watched the 504 go through its paces in preparation for the invasion jump that everyone sensed would be in Sicily. Practice jumps were held and one, staged in a 30-mile wind, put nearly 30 percent of the regiment in the hospital with broken bones, sprains and bruises. Finally, the order came, and the regiment moved by truck to Kairouan, Tunisia, which was to be the 82nd Division’s point of departure for the invasion of Sicily.
Sand tables were constructed, jump suits camouflaged, ammunition issued, and invasion currency drawn. D-Day couldn’t come too soon for men of the 504, who, having been subjected to a rigorous training program under blazing desert skies, now found themselves in a virtual African “hell hole of Calcutta”. Kairouan, the second most holy city for members of the Mohammedan religion, was the site of one of the largest burial-grounds in the world. Bodies were interned only two feet below the surface of the ground and each tomb featured an air-conditioning vent that was to serve as an escape route for evil spirits that might have inhabited bodies of the faithful. Unfortunately, and much to the discomfort of those nearby, evil spirits weren’t the only elements to escape through the vents and the air constantly reeked with the odor of departed Moslems. When the day finally came for the regiment to move to the airports, 504 men were only too happy to join the evil spirits in their escape.