"“We were eager,” he remembers, “we were fit. And we were totally innocent. I mean my idea was that everyone was going to be incredibly brave with drums beating and bands playing and I was going to be the bravest among the brave. There was absolutely no doubt at all in my mind that that was going to be the case.”"
D-Day WWII was not simply the storming of the beaches on July 6, 1944. According to Ambrose and others, the “coup de main” for two inland bridges may have been the difference between success and failure of the entire operation. Ambrose takes us way back with Major John Howard to the meticulous preparation for that attack which involved moving many men by gliders in the dead of night.
"“I’m Major John Howard.” “How do you do?
How do you do?” I (Ambrose) exclaimed, pumping his hand. “What a thrill and honor to meet you.” He asked if “my chaps” would like to hear a word or two about what had happened here. Indeed they would, I assured him, and dashed to the bus to get everyone out. We gathered around Major Howard, who stood on the embankment, his back to the bridge. Nearly every one of us on the tour was a hopeless addict for war stories—consequently we were all experts. All of us agreed afterward that never had we heard such good war stories, so well told. The next year, Howard was a featured speaker for my tour group, telling in more detail about the events of June 6, 1944." Eventually this became Pegasus Bridge.
"Pegasus fit perfectly. A company in action does not produce much in the way of documentary evidence, but it does create vivid memories—meaning my sources would be interviews with survivors, rather than surviving documents. As to length, one day in the life of one company would obviously be much, much shorter than the seventy-eight years of Ike’s life. Finally, Pegasus would let me get down to the level of a company commander and his men, where the action is."
Major Howard’s D Company knew it was going to have a special mission and Howard drove them to be ready for it. "D Company continued to work at a pace that bordered on fanaticism in order to earn the right to be the first to go."
The preparation was intense and demanding: "The training flights for operation Deadstick were hellishly difficult. Colonel Chatteron had the pilots landing beside a small L-shaped wood, a quarter of a mile long down the long end, and a few yards along the angle. The pilots landed with three gliders going up the L and three on the blind side, carrying cement blocks for a load. In daylight, on a straight-in run, it was a snap. But next Chatteron started having them release at seven thousand feet, then fly by times and courses, using a stopwatch, making two or three full turns before coming in over the wood. That was not too bad either, because—as Wallwork explains—“in broad daylight you can always cheat a little.” Next Chatteron put colored glass in their flying goggles, which turned day into night, and warned his pilots, “It is silly of you to cheat on this because you’ve got to do it right when the time comes.” Wallwork would nevertheless whip the goggles off if he thought he was overshooting. “But we began to play it fairly square, realizing that whatever we were going to do it was going to be something important.”"
Ambrose’s descriptions are almost as good as a fine novel: "Howard could hear the tanks. He was desperate to establish radio communication with Fox, but could not. Then he saw a tank swing slowly, ever so slowly, toward the bridge, its great cannon sniffing the air like the trunk of some prehistoric monster. “And it wasn’t long before we could see a couple of them about twenty-five yards apart moving very, very slowly, quite obviously not knowing what to expect when they got down to the bridges.” Everything was now at stake and hung in the balance. If the Germans retook the canal bridge, they would then drive on to overwhelm Sweeney’s platoon at the river bridge. There they could set up a defensive perimeter, bolstered by tanks, so strong that the 6th Airborne Division would find it difficult, perhaps impossible, to break through. In that case, the division would be isolated, without antitank weapons to fight off von Luck’s armor. It sounds overly dramatic to say that the fate of the more than ten thousand fighting men of the 6th Airborne depended on the outcome of the forthcoming battle at the bridge, but we know from what happened to the 1st Airborne in September 1944 at Arnhem that that was in fact exactly the case."
I believe that Ambrose found a “lesser-known” (at least to American readers) incident and intentionally elevated its presence and found his new “band of brothers” to write about. It may not have the impact for his readers that Band of Brothers had. But, it is an excellent military history.
Sergeant Thorton uses the only “tank gun” available and fires a bullseye at the lead German tank. "Through the night, the lead tank smoldered, right across the T-junction, thus blocking movement between Bénouville and Le Port, and between Caen and the coast. An argument can therefore be made that Sergeant Thornton had pulled off the single most important shot of D-Day, because the Germans badly needed that road. Thornton himself is impatient with any such talk. When I had completed my interview with him, and had shut off the tape recorder, he remarked: “Whatever you do in this book, don’t go making me into a bloody hero.” To which I could only think to reply, “Sergeant Thornton, I don’t make heroes. I only write about them.”"