Poetry of the 508
POEMS A LA 82eme DIVISION
AMERICAINE PARACHUTISTS
Vous etes descendus par une nuit d'ete
Sur le beau sol de FRANCE.
AIRBORNE ! Les premiers vous avez replante
Les fleurs de I'Esperance
Sur la terre Normande asservie eu guettait
L'avion a la croix noire
Et vous avez ecrit les premiers, a grands traits,
Cette page d’Histoire
Dont l'Avenir toujours ira s’emerveillant,
Cette page si grande
Qu'on la racontera aux tout petits enfants"
Sur le ton des legendes !
"Il y eut autrefois des archanges ailes
Qui, du ciel de lumiere - .'
Descendirent chasser les demons installes
Sur notre pauvre terre .
Du sol noir jaillissait la flamme des brasiers
Et des balles tracantes
Vers eux aui, dedaigneux, parachute deploye,
Jusqu'a l'aube maissante
Planerent; puis soudainse laisserent giisser
Vers nos teits, nos tourelles,
Posant leurs veiles bleus, blancs, verts , er, dispres,
Comme de grandes ailes tt
Quand ils disaient :"O.K" , si calmes et si gais,
Le rire sur la bouche,
Ils redonnaient l'espoir a nos coeurs angoisses
Par la lutte farouche .
AMIS, un jour, plus tard, Iourds de vos souvenirs,
Fiers de votre Victoire
Dans le pays normand vous voudrez revenir
Ou naquit votre gloire
Et SAINTE-MERE-EGLISE entre tous lieux choisie
Pour les premiers combats,
Comme une Mere a ses enfants tout attendrie.
Vous ouvrira ses bras !
" SOYEZ GLORIFIES, VOUS QUI FUTES SI GRANDS
En ces jours d'epopee.
N'avez vous pas , faces noircies et veiles blancs,
En balayant les nuees,
Chasse a grands coups d’ailes
O Ramoneurs celestes ! les hordes cruelles !”
June- 6 -1944 - June 6 1946
Simone RENAUD, Mayor’s wife
SAINT-MERE-EGLISE ( Manche )
TO THE 82nd AIRBORNE DIVISION
You have jumped down in a Summer night
On the soil of FRANCE.
AIRBORNE ! You, first, have set up the flowers of Hope
To bloom again,
Unshackled Normandy where the black crossed planes watched in the sky.
And, THE FIRST ONES, you have written at a stroke
This page of History
Which future men will read unbelieving!
Such a grand page
That it will be told to the little ones
After the old way of the legends!
" … Once upon a time, winged angels
Came diving down from the moon-lit sky
To drive away the devils
Enslaving our poor country.
By night, from the black earth, the flames of fires and tracer-bullets
Sprang to them,
Who soared above, full of scorn, with widespread parachutes
Till dawn peeped …
Them all of a sudden they glided down
On our roofs, our towers,
Laying their blue, white, green, gold, speckled silk veils
Just like large wings!
And when, so calm and laughing, they would say:
" Everything is O.K. "
A wave of Hope surged again in our anxious hearts
During the fierce fight.
O! Friends, one day, later on, laden with memories,
Proud of your Victory,
To this Norman countryside you will wish to return
Where your glory was born.
And SAINT-MERE-EGLISE , chosen among all other places
For the first fighting to start,
Like a tender mother to her children
Will stretch her arms to you and say :
" Be praised, honored, YOU AIRBORNE, who have been so grand
In the epic days !
With your sooty faces and white silk parachutes
You have swept the clouds,
And with your gleaming wings you have driven away
In a mighty sweep
0! SKY SWEEPERS,
The barbarian foe ! "
June- 6 -1944 - June 6 1946
Simone RENAUD, Mayor’s wife
SAINT-MERE-EGLISE ( Manche )
THEC OLONEL
He'd stand before them and know each man by name,
With a prayer on his lips, as they entered the plane.
He had dark eyes and a granite chin,
With a mouth that seldom wore a grin.
He had but to give a command
A man would wonder, some not understand.
But that he had told them to go,
Was all each one needed to know.
He led them through the war to the peace,
And when the noise of the battle did cease,
They all went their separate way,
Feeling they'd meet at a future day.
When the time came to them at last
And they could reminisce about the past,
He spoke to each man and called him by name,
To them, this was their " Hall Of Fame ".
Everyone knew, in his deepest heart,
As long as he lived, he wished to be a part
Of what he was, of what he had been,
A trooper, who was one of the " Colonel's Men ".
by Peggy Ruppe
FREEDOM'S LIGHT
At each reunion, we have lit candles for our fallen brothers.
This tradition has gone on for years.
We do it in remembrance and in honor
... and this is our last reunion.
We fought for liberty and an end to persecution.
We fought so that freedom's light could shine in
cities whose names we could not even pronounce.
Before we came home, we saw the reflection of freedom's light in faces all around us — no language barrier ... just humble thanks.
Each of us has become a candle in these sixty-odd years.
We've carried freedom's light in our life and in our heart.
The light comforted us through days and nights of remembering the horror of war.
Some of us, who returned home, have already died ... but, today our candles still burn.
Perhaps, sometimes, your candle was almost snuffed out or you burned it at both ends.
Life's unexpected puffs of wind have made all our candles flicker ... but for today, our candle still burns.
For as long as you live, let your candle burn.
Tell everyone who will listen how precious freedom is.
When your days seem dark, remember that half a world away candles burn for you - for your sacrifice, for your belief in freedom.
Let your candle burn to the very end and when your life slips away,
Carry that candle with you.
That old candle is you — you provided a generation of freedom's light and love.
Look for the light - our fallen brothers will lead the way.
God relit their candles long ago.
Leigh Barrett Hege (2004)
GOODBYE, G.I.
Goodbye, G.I., Goodbye, big-hearted Joe,
We are glad you came. We hope you're sad to go.
Say what you can for this old-fashioned isle;
And when you can't --- well, say it with a smile.
Goodbye, G.I. and, now you know the way,
Come back and see us in a brighter day,
When England's free, and "Scotch" is cheap but strong,
And you can bring your pretty wives along.
Goodbye, G.I., Don't leave us quite alone.
Somewhere in England we must write in stone :
"Here Britain Was Invaded By Yanks,"
And, under that, "Thanks."
I HAVE NEVER FORGOTTEN YOU
Sixty some years ago, I left this shore.
I returned home......you did not.
We did not want to leave you here.
But, we felt you deserved to be buried and honored where you fell.
We have lived full, rich lives.
We've succeeded and failed.
We've loved and lost.
We've aged.....and today, we've returned.
To tell you that you freed these people.
They have prospered and grown,
They have lived free lives.... because of you.
I have thought of you often in all these years.
On cold, dark, snowy nights,
I have remembered how you shivered with me from cold and fright.
I hated to lose you.
More, I regretted leaving you.
But, be assured I have never forgotten you.
And, after sixty-odd years, may God hear my plea.
God, hold the soul of this fallen soldier.
He died so others could live.
He fought with pride and with honor
And finally his life he did give.
Protect this soldier forever more,
Find for him a special place,
I've lived my life the best I can
To join You and thank him face to face.
SOARING WINGS
On soaring wings our transports ride,
Below the lightless country side,
A thin cold moon, light clouds, dark sky,
Tonight we live, we fight and die.
The planes roar on. Not far ahead
Bursts of flak, flame flowers spread.
Our plane is rocking, rising, falling.
Short miles to go, seconds crawling.
"Ack Ack" behind, drop zone here and now
Stand in the door," ready, we're there,
"Go,"... we're out, we're coming down.
"Planes goodbye!" Here comes the ground.
We're down and armed. The enemy is
Everywhere ... and in the sky
Our transports gone into the night.
We re alone and now the fight.
Staccato as machine guns bark,
Rifles cracking in the dark.
Forward! Double! Hit the ground!
The night around, a holocaust of sound.
A figure rises, charges and my rifle
Swings, now right, now left, up a trifle,
My finger close gently on the trigger,
I see Death touch him ... icy fingers!
A sudden flash of flaming hell,
A blast of Death, a bursting shell
The roar of more, as raining down,
They bracket ever inch of ground.
"Crouch down!" "Lie flat! "Dig in!" "Dig in!"
I find I'm screaming o'er the din,
The firing 'round me dwindles, dies,
Beneath those deathly flaming skies.
Flash of pain across my back,
A shrapnel splinter ... bloody track
Warmly trickling down my thigh -
A black-red puddle where I lie,
And to the left, the front, the fight -
One light flickers, stabbing white
The shells, Praise God, have ceased to fall;
I see stabbing lights, that's all.
Snaking forward, here they come…
Rushing, firing as they run -
And in my hands, my rifle's hot,
Aim and fire - "Get that dark blot".
But what’s the use? I’m alone;
No holding fire but my own.
They know I cannot hold them long,
They come more boldly, coming strong.
Now the end, the time to die;
My five grenades are ready.
I lie so I can throw them, one by one
When they come too close to gun.
Now they're here, and I throw.
Three men die by this last blow.
Two are they who come too nigh.-
The third, I know, is I.
For I am weak, my aim is slow -
My blood and strength, together flow,
One second now, and then, and then -
This is it, this is the end.
LEGEND
Shiny boots and silver wings
Now proudly stand where angels sing.
Airborne they were, and always will be
They died that others might be free.
On wings like eagles we drifted down
Landing fields, trees and town.
A legend was born that dark night
When the '508th' began the fight.
The price we paid was beyond compare,
We left so many good friends there.
When the great jump master says
Stand up, hook up, stand in the door,
We will all meet our buddies on Heaven's shore.
Dwayne T. Burns, 1996
DRAMATIC NIGHT OF 5th TO 6th OF JUNE 1944
AT SAINT-MERE-EGLISE
LIBERATION
The sky seems mad … it is illuminated...
Some squadrons of planes are roaring above,
Some bombs, some shells, detonations shake the house
The machine-guns never stop...
No more lights, camouflage.....
Hidden under the blankets, I can’t sleep
I say : "Mummy, I am afraid, very much afraid "
We are all very much afraid.
And minute after minute
The deafening noises come nearer and nearer...
"O Jesus, I pray, do protect us, we are going to die "
We think that many people are dead ...
Are they our allies who are coming to help us ?...
A few minutes of respite . . . and it starts again ...
The walls are shaking...we go out of bed in haste
Huddled together in the staircase
We are praying constantly and we say:
Liberator friends we are waiting for you!!
Do come quickly, very quickly,
The enemies are fierce.
O “Brothers of America " be blessed !!
The night of terror, the night of anguish, this unforgettable night
Is over, and our freedom is restored!!!!
By Juliette Bieult
(a citizen of Ste. Mere Eglise, Normandy, France)
NORMANDY INTERLUDE
“A TRIBUTE TO ALL AIRBORNE MEN”
There is a story that must be told
A tale that shall never, ever grow old
Of the men who jumped into Normandy, France
Who, knowing the odds, still took the chance.
I am not a poet, never claimed to be
But something deep inside of me
Compels me to tell of these men, so brave
So many torn apart, so many lying in their grave.
There is so much that I must say
About the happenings on that fateful day
June 6, 1944 to be exact
When years of training became actual fact.
It was a quiet, serene, moonless night
Scattered here and there a lonely light
One dated not think of what lay ahead
Not allowing ourselves to think that we might soon be dead.
When suddenly the quiet was shattered by a roaring noise
And the planes scattered about the field like so many toys
Began to breathe with a sputter and a whine
And slowly lumbered up to the take off line.
A familiar phrase was whispered on down
Load on [the] planes, we’re going to town
So here and there a hasty farewell
And into the seats for our date with Hell.
A last puff on cigarettes, a last smoke
And some found time to tell a feeble joke
For we were afraid, make no mistake
We sensed what was coming, what we’d have to take.
Soaring over England, over valley, over hill
This ride was for real, more than just a thrill
We knew that we were going to kill
We knew that soon many hearts would be still.
Then the channel was past and gone
And still our planes roared on and on
And the enemy, waiting, once so bold
Must have felt the blood in their veins grow cold.
For on we came, thousands strong
The motors still singing their mighty song
And suddenly the skies were filled with flak
They tried so hard to hurl us back.
Then “Stand up”, “Hook up”, ready to jump
And in each man’s throat, a peculiar lump
The green light flashed, the plane gave a lunge
And into the void we began to plunge.
How can any man describe a combat drop
When each man wonders why his heart doesn’t stop
Your body snaps, twists, contorts through the air
And you pray to your Father that you chute doesn’t tear.
Then the opening shock and the blinding pain
And tense, tight, tortured muscles relax again
And you look above and say a silent prayer
To the One that is always there.
Yes, it was all there this time too
That familiar feeling, that drop though the blue
But something strange was also there
Something that ripped and screamed through the air.
It’s then that you feel so very alone
And silently say goodbye to the loved ones at home
You know they are waiting down there in the black
As slowly your chute drifts down through the flak.
Then that terrible smash into the ground
Knowing that the Jerries are all around
You rant, you struggle, you squirm, you rage
To escape from the harness that feels like a cage.
And with a gasp, a sigh, and a breathless sob
You suddenly realize that you’ve accomplished the job
How the earth feels so good, so warm and so safe
But still those guns continued to strafe.
Now, trooper, it’s time to think
You can’t see much, it’s black as ink
And down your neck, a hot fetid breath
A bad race against the stranger called “Death”.
Now there is something else to do
Seek out your buddies, those that came through
Every second, every minute counts
With the passing time, the danger mounts.
Wriggle, crawl, squirm and creep
And all you can think of is a hole that’s deep
Every so often a guttural shout
The enemy desperately seeking us out.
Your eyes strain and search the ground
And you don’t dare breathe or utter a sound
When suddenly, a movement ahead
And you aim your rifle at an indistinct head.
You whisper your password, softly, but clear
And the answer comes back, a buddy is near
It’s then that you share one of life’s greatest joys
As one by one, you meet the other boys.
Knowing that you have someone near,
To overcome this strange feeling, called fear
And gazing at each familiar face
Wondering who would finish the race.
Of the following days, no need to write
Fighting morning, noon and night
No let down, no ease, no respite
No water to drink, no food to bite.
We had jumped into an SS nest
Fought against Hitler’s very best
Yet we always knew that we would win this fight
For we were fighting for justice and right.
Yes, we like to think that we more than evened the score
For those amongst us who had gone before
We made the enemy pay and pay
As witness the fields where German bodies lay.
So many of us were left behind
But still amongst us it is hard to find
Real pity for those of us who are gone
They never really died; they shall live on and on.
And when this war is many years past
Their deeds and their valor shall always last
So don’t weep for them, but share this thought
That the joys they knew could never be bought.
When the time came, they gave all they had
And God took the good, he took the bad
He took their torn, worn, bleeding frames
And made them whole, dispelled their pains.
But for those of us that are left today
We know that there is still another fray
When it will end we don’t know
Until then, “Geronimo”.
- . - . - . - . - . - .
Formerly Staff Sgt. Ray Pateracki
HQ’s Company, 1st Bn.
508th Parachute Infantry Regiment
82nd Airborne Division
Written: August 1944
Nottingham, England
This untitled poem was written on April 12, 1945. The author's name has been withheld at her request. It is a sad story but one that deserves to be read and pondered.
The late O.B. Hill, founder of the 508th P.I.R Association, received permission to publish the poem and it first appeared in the May 1984 Issue 27 of the Association's newsletter. He stated "the author of this beautiful poem is one of five ladies who have met every month since we were stationed in Wollaton Park ... to talk about the "Men of the 508th".
The Poem
So this is England in peace ...
Yet I sat in this self same spot a year ago
And it was war.
It all seems the same, the grass, the sky, the sun,
But then you were here.
So much has happened since.
The others now seem only a memory,
But you, who I should not remember, live in my mind -
Always there in my every thought,
Yet it is said you love another.
I don't understand - we, who meant so much
And said to each other the things we said,
Should be together - forever.
Yet it was you who changed as did others in June '44.
That test of nerves the night you dropped, the suspense,
And then to see your comrades killed around you,
And to kill, yourself.
The blood and sweat, they shocked your nerves.
You were not expecting it to be like this -
An easy victory, the undefeated paratroops.
Yet, for seven days and nights, you were alone,
Seeing them fall beside you,
Wondering each hour if the next would be you.
What could I know of all this?
I could not guess.
I too thought it would be an easy victory,
The undaunted Paratroop with whom I loved and laughed
A month before.
He could not be serious, mud-caked and frightened
Even in Battle.
He would laugh and say "To hell with them"
And so I wrote you letters
And the future, our life and laughed.
Told you little incidents that would make you smile.
Then on July 14th ... you came back ...
No telegram, just that knock
For 45 days I had waited for this,
But yet towards the end I doubted,
No letters, no word before that night.
"I can only stay ten minutes,
I've got to meet the boys and celebrate",
You were changed, my hand was there for you to hold,
But you didn't - my eyes to look into,
But I received no answering look.
And afterwards when we were alone
You told me "This is goodbye,
This is the last time we shall meet".
You looked beyond me as you spoke those few words
And I knew with all my heart that you didn't mean them.
Had you looked at me -
You would have seen there all my thoughts of you.
All those thoughts that I'd stored up whilst you were over there
Risking all - even your very life.
But no - you didn't look and you never knew
As I would never know again,
The thrill of having you hold me close
And the bitter sweetness of your kiss -
They were mine no more - they belonged to someone else.
In that moment, something within died,
It has never been reborn,
I loved you then, I love you now, you have gone,
But I will always remember you - to eternity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *