#Slapton Sands

[rjnello]

Here, 80 Years Ago

A moment of historical solemnity. I took this video a few weeks ago. I was standing on Slapton Sands beach, a few miles from where we live here in Dartmouth, Devon: [Slapton Sands beach, Devon. Video by me, April 1, 2024.] Slapton Sands, with its shingle surface, and the fact that behind it, just a few yards inland, is a lagoon… [Looking toward Slapton Sands beach, just inland, across part of…

[historydailyfrancischappellblack]

The Catastrophe of Exercise Tiger, April 28, 1944.

Subscriber Content Add content here that will only be visible to your subscribers. Payment Image: Rehearsal landing by US forces at Slapston Sands, Devon, in April 1944. The Catastrophe of Exercise Tiger, April 1944. In the early hours of April 28, 1944, a convoy of eight American LSTs (Landing Ship, Tank), carrying vehicles and combat engineers of the 1st Engineer Special Brigade, took part…

[szlez]

I Don’t Owe You a Drink

My infatuation with Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits continues.

Chapter 1: Slapton Sands

If you feel like helping a good cause (and read some more 91w) pls donate to Komodobits's charity commission page.

[captain-price-unofficially]

American troops landing on beach in Slapton Sands, England during rehearsal for D-Day (Exercise Tiger) April, 1944

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, smut. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upottery Airfield, England June 1944

The downpour of rain pounded on the wooden roof, echoing through the barracks and causing a deafening echoing. It seeped through the cracks and dropped down onto the men seated below, tricking down the backs of their necks and eliciting shivers. The jump had been called off again due to poor flying conditions and Bob and the other members of the Airborne Division were huddled in one of the wooden huts, still equipped with nearly everything they needed for the jump, faces smeared with black paint and a deep sense of defeat hanging in the air.

Most of the men had dumped their stuff back in their sleeping quarters, including the British issued leg bags that while none of the men had jumped with before in training, had been rammed full of extra ammunition and supplies. Overall each man was carrying about 100 extra pounds, some being 150 extra pounds, this was the point when Bob was truly glad he was a rifleman and not part of the mortar or machine gun squads. Everyone had been so prepared, veins pumping with adrenaline at the thought of their impending jump, only to be shot down in flames by the English weather yet again. Considering their almost disastrous practice run of D-Day at Slapton Sands, an air of uneasiness hung over the men. Bob picked carelessly at the seam of his cuff, pulling at the loose thread absentmindedly. It’s not like anyone would care if he had a thread loose now, Lewis wouldn’t be there to make him run Currahee again. Captain Lewis' words ran through Bob’s mind.

“You think you’re paratroopers, you’re not. You are children. You are a disgrace to this regiment.”

Bob thought it was the happiest day of his life when the regiment was shipped to England. Captain Lewis was staying in the States to train new paratroopers so Captain Moore had taken his place. Moore was a kind faced man who was far more knowledgeable than Lewis and had his men’s upmost respect. No more Captain Lewis, no more Currahea, but no more (y/n). After Toccoa, they had been split up for a while when Bob went to Fort Benning for his Airborne training but they met up again at several other bases, including Camp Mackall, much to Albert Miller’s dismay as he turned a blind eye to Bob sneaking into the aid station to steal her away. Bob had thought of (y/n) often during the crossing to England. Curled up on his tiny bunk bed, he’d lovingly traced his finger over the picture she’d given him, her bright smiling face staring back at him as he solemnly looked on. He’d tucked that picture into the breast pocket of his uniform, wanting to keep her close to his heart in the long days ahead.

(Y/n) and the other nurses from the Army Nurse Corps had been stationed at a military hospital in another part of England and while Bob was glad you weren’t going to Normandy with him, his heart already ached for you to be back in his arms. He’d been fortunate enough to have a seven day pass to London with some of the other men, which just so happened to coincide with your leave, meaning you’d spent seven blissful days together exploring the capital. Deep down he wished he’d told you how he truly felt but he knew nothing good could have come from it, not with war right around the corner. He loved you and while you had both loved each other, you’d said it in every way but those three words. He thought back to your last night together, curled up in the crumpled sheets back in London. (Y/n) had snuck Bob into her hotel room and they did their best to keep the noise down despite their antics. Bob smiled at the thought of her soft skin beneath his hands, plump lips against his, legs tangled together beneath the sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bob’s hand roamed up her thighs, unclasping her stockings and rolling them down simultaneously, taking as long as possible so he could savour each moment. She watched him intently, her heart beating quicker at the sight of him, his normally blue eyes were dark and filled with lust. He slid her skirt up, placing gentle kisses on her inner thighs as his hands pulled down her panties. He pushed her legs further apart before burying his face between her legs, placing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin. She gasped, letting her head roll back against the bed, her cheeks blushing furiously as she groaned as Bob began to suck at her clit, his tongue toying with her folds. She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping loudly as she grabbed a fistful of Bob’s hair, pulling it harshly. Bob moaned as he began fumbling her clit between his teeth, the action only causing (y/n) to moan louder. The pleasure she felt was intense and she breathlessly mumbled, her whole body feeling hot all over as the pleasure pulsed through her.

“I’m so close,” she cried but Bob didn’t answer, his tongue working tirelessly to bring her to ecstasy. Bob slipped one finger, and then two into her, causing her to arch her back, crying out his name. Bob pumped his fingers slowly as she rode out her orgasm, clenching around his fingers, as the grip on his hair grew ever tighter until she relaxed. (Y/n) didn’t realise she’d had her eyes closed until she opened up and saw Bob looking down at her, a shy smile on his lips glistening with her wetness. Y/N could feel her whole body buzzing from the afterglow of her orgasm but she released Bob’s hair, running her hand down to cup his cheek and pull him in for a tender kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and she moaned into the kiss. (Y/n) pulled away, running her fingers over Bob’s swollen lips and hummed in appreciation. His once neatly gelled hair was dishevelled, his neck sporting a few bruises from her kisses earlier and his blue eyes watching her like a love-sick puppy. It amazed her how Bob could go from this love-making machine to the sweet boy that now sat in front of her. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth she gave him a devilish grin.

“I want you…” she trailed her fingers down Bob’s chest, unbuttoning it as she went. “I want you…” she repeated and (y/n) could see Bob’s eyes growing darker as he watched her actions.

“As you wish, Doll.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, stop doing that,” Jackson hissed, swatting Bob’s hand away. “Stop picking your sleeve.”

“Why?” Bob hissed back a little sharper than he had meant to. “It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to be.” Jackson sighed, knocking his friend playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t be in such a hurry to get yourself killed, Floyd.”

Jackson was right, the radioman was always right. He had a strange sense of humour and a boyish grin that caused women to fall at his feet. Bob thought he was only about 18 but he was 21, a full-grown adult, Jackson often reminded him. Bob was 23, and although he wasn’t much older than Jackson, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’d been promoted to Staff Sergeant of 2nd platoon during their parachute training and Bob felt like he’d taken on the responsibility of the whole of Easy Company, not just a few Privates and Corporals. Jackson continued to talk in a hushed whisper but Bob had tuned out, his mind wandering to home, as the black and white images of the movie played before his eyes. Back in the States, it was about 5 pm, Bob thought to himself, imagining his mother cooking dinner in the kitchen whilst trying to control his two rowdy younger brothers. One of his brothers had asked Bob to bring back a Luger and much to his mother's dismay he’d promised he’d try. But honestly, Bob didn’t want to bring anything back from the war, he didn’t want his family to have any connection to the horrors he knew he’d be facing. No, the only thing Bob wanted to bring home from the war was you. He could imagine it now, painting the scene vividly in his mind of you helping his mother in the kitchen, playing in the yard with his brothers, and chatting with his father around the breakfast table. That was the image Bob wanted to stay with him forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bob had never felt travel sick before, even as a young boy he’d loved long car journeys but sat in what felt like a rickety tin of an aircraft waiting to jump out into the darkness above Normandy, Bob couldn’t stop his stomach from churning. It came in waves, rolling over him like a tide as he swallowed down the vomit that threatened to erupt from his mouth at any second. Doc Miller had issued the men with travel sickness tablets for the journey and although no one had a problem with this in training, many were grateful for them now. Captain Nelson, who had been promoted to Easy Company’s CO before D-Day, waved his hands at the men, indicating it was time to clip themselves onto the line and prepare to jump. Bob stood, his legs shaking like they were made of jelly and about to give way at any given moment. After 22 months of training the day had finally come, this was the big jump. The men on either side of him jostled about, knocking into each other like dominos. The green light appeared in the doorway and Bob watched as Lieutenant Nelson jumped out of the plane, disappearing into the night. One after another the paratroopers jumped, each jumping into enemy fire. When Bob’s turn came his palms were sweating and his knees nearly buckled.

“Go, go, go,” the paratrooper behind Bob shouted and Bob jumped. Flung into the night sky he hurriedly scrambled to hold onto the strings of his parachute in a desperate attempt to steer himself the best he could. Around him shells erupted in the sky, hitting the C47 planes. Bob watched in utter horror as one of the planes exploded before the soldiers even had time to jump, erupting in flames and hurtling towards Normandy.

The landing was rough, Bob couldn’t judge the distance from the ground and as his ankle connected with the floor he felt a surge of pain shoot up his leg. Scrambling to his feet, he gathered up the silk parachute, cutting the ties and hurriedly picking up his M1 Garand, his hands shaking as he hurriedly assembled it. Around him, gunfire echoed through the night as he hurried towards a group of trees. Ducking down Bob watched as several other paratroopers landed, most of them had been spread far and wide across Normandy due to the poor conditions and inexperience of the pilots but a lucky few landed together. Bob stood, shuffling out from his hiding place, his rifle raised.

The other paratroopers turned to him, “Flash?” One of them shouted out.

“Thunder,” Bob replied and he saw the three men visibly relaxed.

“Welcome,” they called back and Bob emerged from his hiding place waving to the other men who approached quickly, all squatting down, wide eyes darting around them in panic. Bob recognised two of the men from Dog Company but he couldn’t say he knew them, just from the odd encounters during training. The other man was unfamiliar to Bob, and the others it would seem, he stayed on the edge of the group, staying silent.

“Who are you?” Bob asked, his voice coming out in a harsh whisper and the young man looked behind him as if he wasn’t sure Bob was addressing him.

“I’m Private Garcia, from the 82nd Airborne Division, Sir,” he addressed Bob quietly, his cheeks blushing as he sat under the scrutiny of the three soldiers.

“82nd!” One of the men from Dog Company exclaimed. “Where the fuck are we?”

“I don’t know but we need to keep moving,” Bob stood motioning for the others to follow him. “Stay with us until we find your Division.” He told Garcia who nodded, following along at the back of the group. Along the way the group caught up with a small groups of other paratroopers from Able and Baker Company, all heading to the rendezvous point.

By the time they caught up with the others and regrouped, Easy Company had won its first of many battles.

“Floyd, you should have seen it. Everyone was firing and Lieutenant Nelson was instructing us to clear out the German’s trenches and we destroyed their 105mm,” Jackson reeled off, sounding far too excited about his first battle, his first victory. “And when the Tiger Tank came over the hill I was sure we were done for, we were out of TNT but then the M4s came out of the tree line and we sent them running for the hills.”

Bob smiled at the radioman who was still enthusiastically reeling off the day's events. He wished he had been there, fighting alongside his friends but he knew there would be many chances for that in the coming days. He left Jackson telling the story to the two men from Dog Company and Garcia from the 82nd and he made his way across the camp in search of Doc Miller. He found the medic in one of the abandoned buildings patching up a young, fresh-faced soldier, he didn’t look any worse for wear considering he’d been shot in the arm and smiled at Bob when he entered. Bob nodded his head in acknowledgement, waiting for the soldier to leave before approaching his friend. Miller looked up at him, his face still smeared in the remnants of black paint from the drop.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Doc. I’d recognise those dulcet tones anywhere,” Bob perched himself on one of the wooden chairs in the corner of the room, leaning his head against the wall with a dramatic sigh. The rumble of the M4s and trucks passed by outside, causing the wrecked beholding to shake, dust leaking through the holes in the roof, and the shouts of other platoon leaders sounded far away as Bob huddled further into his jacket, his eyes closed in the hope of a moment's peace. Miller let out a laugh, his heavy boots causing the floorboards to creak as he approached.

“Have you seen Jackson yet?” His smooth southern accent sounded like music to Bob’s ears after the night of endless complaints he’d endured from the Dog Company lads.

“Who hasn’t? He’s been telling half of the 101st what happened and anyone from the 82nd who would listen.” Bob was unable to wipe the coquettish smirk from his face as both men laughed, the young radioman’s enthusiasm was endearing really, his boyish charm radiating onto everyone who met him.

“How are you holding up?” Doc asked, eyeing Bob’s ankle that he had balanced on the table in front of him.

Bob snorted, “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Doc. I’ll just walk it off.” Bob jumped as he felt Miller’s cold fingers resting against the exposed skin of his ankle and hissed as the medic began to manoeuvre his boot off his foot. Deep purple bruises penetrated the skin and the whole foot was swollen, the skin stretched thinly over the inflamed area. Miller sighed, fishing in his bag and pulling out some fresh, white bandages. He strapped Bob’s foot tightly, winding the scratchy material around it before replacing his sock.

“I want you to keep off of it as much as possible and keep it raised when you can.” Miller’s eyes were stern as he looked at Bob but the playfulness behind his dark eyes made Bob smile.

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Bob grinned, pulling his boot back on and lacing it as best he could before hobbling back outside. Bob knew that this was just the beginning of what was yet to come.

“Oh Floyd,” Miller called after him, causing Bob to stop in his tracks, his heavy boots coming to a loud halt. “Did you hear about Captain Moore?”

Bob frowned, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “No, what happened?”

“His plane was hit, no one even got the chance to jump. Poor bastards didn’t stand a chance.” Miller looked solemn. “Nelson’s now Easy’s CO and it looks like he’ll be promoted to Captain after today.”

Bob nodded, no words needed to be exchange from the news. Captain Moore would have been a good combat leader had he been given the chance to prove himself but Bob and the rest of East Company knew that Lieutenant Nelson was more than capable of leading them to greatness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Doll,

By now you’ve probably heard that we’ve landed in Normandy. The drop was hard and we lost a lot of good men but so far our advances have been successful. The Germans aren’t making this easy for us but we knew that no part of this god-forsaken war was going to be easy. We’re being sent back to Aldbourne for some R and R, for how long I do not know. There is very little they tell us, even Leuitenant Nelson seems to be kept in the dark. I can’t wait to see you once I’m back in England. I can’t tell you much more than that my love but just know I miss you so much. I think of you every night before I sleep and every morning when I wake and all the time in between. I’ll try to write to you as much as I can. I hold your letters close to my heart, my darling, and your picture. They keep me going when I feel that I can’t go on. I love you and I’ll see you soon. Love your Bobby

Dear Bobby,

I was so glad to receive your letter before we shipped out. I am being moved to an aid station somewhere in France to help the wounded soldiers. I don’t yet know where I will be stationed but I will try to write to you as soon as I can. I’m sorry to be missing you in Aldbourne. I’ve missed you so much Bob, not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I can’t believe it’s been over a month since you left. This place just doesn’t feel the same without you. I feel as if you took part of me with you the day you left, just promise me you’ll bring it back. How is Albert getting on? Please send him my love. I’ve missed having all of you boys around. I love you my darling. Your (y/n) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @callsign-phoenix @shadowsintheknight @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @t-nd-rfoot @topguncultleader @flyboyjake @emorychase @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @jstarr86 @starkleila @callsignmeiga

[bikepackinguk]

Day One Hundred and One

A bit of searching around yesterday evening failed to find much in the way of places to pitch up the tent, but a convenient bench off a footpath overlooking West Alvington made for a comfortable enough bed with a beautiful view.

I awoke this morning to a crowd of cows engrossed in the sight if me through the fence. I presume they were impressed by my calves.

The forecast is for an absolutely roasting day ahead, so I'll likely be sacrificing a bit of mileage to be able to shelter in what shade is available over the day. That's no bad compromise if course - the last thing I wantnto do is give myself heatstroke. But Devon's hills are going to continue to be relentless, so we'll see how we go.

Onwards! out into the road and a ride back through to Kingsbridge, where it's back on to the A379 as it leads on east to the sea once more.

Over the pretty arched bridge over Bowcombe Creek and it's a lot more climbing through the countryside in through Chillington, before a nice descent gives a cruise down to Torcross.

The view up the coast here is just lovely, with a nice long stretch of riding between the lapping waves and Slapton Ley Nature Reserve. This early on a Saturday morning, the traffic is thankfully quiet and at times the only sound to be heard as I ride along are the birds and the waves. Glorious.

The cliffsides ahead promise an end to this bit of flat riding unfortunately, and the road soon veers up with a steep climb to get up over the clifftops.

Past Strete the road drops down to the sea once more at the beautiful beach of Blackpool Sands, before heading straight back up again through a tunnel of trees.

Another hill crested and it's a long zoom back downhill once again, for the road to lead out onto the hillsides above the River Dart at the town of Dartmouth.

A glide down through the busy streets here takes me to the ferry which is sat waiting for me to roll onto with perfect timing. Across the water glittering in the sunlight and before I know it I'm landed at Kingswear.

Up away from the riverside, it's another big long hill to slog my way up, with the mercury rising as the day progresses.

Uo through the green hills with a lot of sweat, the road heads back down for a long drop down to lead me in to the harbour at Brixham.

After taking in the sights here, it's back out through the busy crowds and onto the road once more, slogging up with the heaving traffic to track up above Paignton for a resupply at a supermarket, before riding down to hit the waterfront proper.

With the high tide in action, I get a gentle ride around the coast here along with throngs of other tourists making the most of the sunny September day.

The route ahead leads up and over the red stone cliffsides to head around the bay into the famous seaside town of Torquay, which is similarly busy with folk enjoying the unseasonable heat.

I have a gentle stroll around the waterside and past the harbour, before it's once more into the climbs up the hills of Wellswood.

Around through Babbacombe, the hills begin to form in earnest, with some challenging long climbs up and up over the cliffs once more.

Whilst Devon's hills aren't as spikey and sheer as Cornwall's, they are long and relentless and no less difficult. They do at least offer a little more payoff in giving some good long descents back down again, and with today's heat the breeze felt when zooming down from on high is a very welcome one.

Down the road twists to reach the bridge over the River Teign at the town of Teignmouth, where the road dips around and climbs back up once more on its long grind back up the clifftops.

More sweaty work ensues whilst doing what I can to grab the meager shade available, before the road finally drops back down to the seaside town of Dawlish.

The road twists tightly through the historic town centre, but on yhe way out does offer a good stretch of out-of-traffic cycle paths, which I eagerly junp onto.

The trail leads on to a lovely little stretch of path over the clifftops, with a view of Exmouth ahead, before descending down towards the holiday village of Dawlish Warren.

At this point, I've been riding along for a good 10 hours or so, and think it's probably a good point to call it for the day. I'm in good range to get resupplied in the morning, and with Exeter inly a short distance away I know I have a lot more NCN routes finally emerging along the coast to follow.

Despite the heat of today, that's been some good progress, and honestly I think I'm now through the toughest parts of this journey overall. Ehich is a little scary!

Time to find a spot to hole up for the night. I think it may be another evening without the tent for me, but if it's anything like last night then the bivvy bag will be more than warm enough.

TTFN!

[tblrnaturespace]

Slapton Sands Devon

[theworldatwar]

Wounded US servicemen are treated on a beach at Slapton Sands, Devon, England after they were attacked by two flotillas of German torpedo boats during rehearsals for D-Day. More than 600 soldiers were killed - 28th April 1944

[aquilacalvitium]

Some pictures from yesterday evening when we went to Slapton Sands. A gorgeous beach with plenty of history. If you're interested in war history, some shit went down on this beach.

[mission-creep]

Torcross Hotel Pillbox

Machine gun emplacement at the southern end of Slapton Sands, Devon, used for US Army training exercises in preparation for D-Day

Photographed September 14, 2017

[thomarse]

Slapton Sands, Devon, England. 950 US servicemen perished here in 1944 in a rehearsal for D-day that went badly wrong. Pic by me, June 2019

[sumpix]

How Devon's humpback whale is dredging up the politics of the sea

The arrival of a humpback whale at Slapton Sands has caused a local splash. But the history of the village has a warning for those who think of the sea as spectacle alone.

It is not yet known what lies ahead for Brexit fishing policy, or for whales. But dip into the history of the village of Torcross, and it's clear that understanding and protecting the sea is inseparable from protecting ourselves.

(via How Devon's humpback whale is dredging up the politics of the sea)

[lyselkatzhappynerding]

Band of Brothers bibliography

Non-exhaustive list, only my 506th PIR Easy Co/101st Airborne related readings so far:

🦅 Stephen Ambrose - Band of brothers

Only kinda mandatory because the show is based on it but to be taken with a pinch of salt.

��� Dick Winters - Beyond Band of brothers

Very interesting to read Winters' own words. Although not my fav because it's (unsurprisingly) very factual and analytical. Good for historical/chronological reference.

🦅 Cole Kingseed - Conversations with Major Dick Winters

Interesting, mostly focused on Winters' leadership qualities

🦅 Larry Alexander - Biggest Brother

❤ A fave! The approach is more personal and human (also most of the nuggets about Nixon are from this book).

🦅 Don Malarkey/Bob Welsh - Easy company soldier

❤ A fave!!! Little warning, it's pretty melancholic, I always cry a lot rereading. (If I loved TV!Skip before, I totally fell in love with he real guy after that, second hand feels and all)

🦅 William Guarnere/Edward Heffon/ Robyn Post - Brothers in battle, best of friends:

❤ A fave!!! This one is both hilarious and devastating -because war is hell. (I usually reread a chapter after Malarkey's to soothe my poor little heart.)

🦅 Marcus Brotherton - Shifty's war

❤A fave!!! Biography written with 1st person POV, Shifty's voice is beautifully captured. (It's so heartwarming, I'm in perpetual beaming "Awwwwww" mood)

🦅 Marcus Brotherton - A company of heroes (anthology):

❤A fave. Individual focus on a selection of biographies with testimonials from their family. (I totally fell in love with Smokey reading this one)

🦅 Marcus Brotherton - We who are alive and remain (anthology): Global retelling of the whole story with multiple accounts.

🦅 Larry Alexander - In the footsteps of the Band of brothers, Return to Easy Company's Battlefields with Sgt. Forrest Guth

What the title promises! Prepare the travel bucket list!

🦅 David Kenyon Webster- Parachute infantry

I was a little refractory at first, because it looks like it was a big referencee in the writing of BoB and I'm still salty about Ambrose's work.

That being said, it's interesting as an individual's experience of the war and gives little details on the sceneries and every day activities of a private.

🦅 Chris Langlois - How Easy Company Became A Band of Brothers

❤ A lovely book for younger audiences from Doc Roe's grandson. Beautifully illustrated by Anneke Helleman.

🦅 Ed Shames/Ian Gardner - Airborn, the combat story of Ed Shames,Easy company

(Quite salty) POV from the (at some point) 3rd platoon leader (A little mention of Nixon, whom Shames found difficult to work with, in S2)

🦅 Marcus Brotherton/Lynn Compton - Call of duty: I've tried to read that one several time but it just doesn't speak to me

🦅 Donald Burgett - Currahee/The road to Arnhem/Seven Roads to Hell/Beyond the Rhine

Easy reading, the whole ride from an Able company paratrooper's POV, same kind of personal memoirs packed with interesting details like Webster's (with less complaining 😂).

🦅 Ian Gardner - Tonight We Die As Men/ Deliver Us From Darkness/ No Victory in Valhalla

Following the 506 PIR 3rd battalion. A bit heavy but interesting for a larger view of the actions (from the battalion Doc Roe couldn't find in Bastogne, lost his way)

*The short documentary film "Seize and hold Carentan" by N3DLand follows this battalion.

🦅 George Koskimaki - D-Day with the Screaming Eagles/ Hell's Highway/Battered Bastards of Bastogne 

Very information packed collection of personnal recollections. A bit confusing if you are not already familiar with the subject.

(I only picked bits of each book so far, wanting to find out what happened to the 326 airborne medical unit. Also interesting for Lipton and other vets' recollections)

🦅 Charles Whiting - American Eagle

Very interesting, from an non American POV. I learnt about some stuffs only mentioned in passing or not at all, like the disaster of operation tiger in Slapton sand, or that the higher command wasn't exactly confident about the efficiency of such airborne units until Bastogne.

🦅🏥 Paul Woodadge - Angels of Mercy: Two Screaming Eagle Medics in Angoville-au-Plain on D-Day

❤ Medics!! The title says it all. Beautiful story. The medics are from the 501st PIR

*There's a WWII Foundation documentary "Eagles of Mercy" about this.

🦅 Robert Bowen - Fighting with the Screaming Eagles

Interesting personnal account from a glider's pov (401st glider infantry regiment) and life as a POW captured in the Battle of the Bulge.

🏥 Martin King - Searching for Augusta: the forgotten angel of Bastogne

❤ Remember the black nurse "Anna" in Bastogne? Her real name is Augusta Chiwy and that's her amazing story. (Just be aware that the author is a bit "salty" towards Renée Lemaire, more likely about the spotlight she received while Augusta was forgotten for so long)

*The book has a documentary counterpart.

🦈David Kenyon Webster - Myth and maneater: The story of the shark

❤ Don't mind the sensationalist cover choice from the publisher who finally accepted to publish it (posthumously), profiting from the cinematic success of Jaws.

It's beautifully and humorously written, very interesting and surprisingly ahead of its time (1960s) viewing sharks as much more than bloodthirsty monster.

[aiiaiiiyo]

American troops practice for D-Day at Slapton Sands, England. Due to a decision to use live fire and a last minute schedule change, ~450 troops were killed by friendly fire on day one, with that total reaching at least 749 American servicemen by the end of the exercise. April 1944. [3588x2895] Check this blog!

[mercurygray]

The Darkening Sky - Chapter 24

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Lewis Nixon, Richard Winters, Robert F. Sink, Herbert Sobel, Ensemble Cast

Additional Tags: Alternate History, Women Being Awesome, Women in the Military, World War II, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

“Some will say that it is a sad state of affairs when a country asks its women to go to war. But there is nothing sad about patriotism, and from coast to coast, America’s women have answered the call in record-breaking numbers, happy and willing to serve in all branches of the service - including, if the posters are to be believed, an entirely new co-ed parachute infantry unit.”

--

Harry had never seen Dick this angry.

With the worst of the winter rain behind them, they'd now progressed to the next stage of field maneuvers, three day exercises with all the moving parts in place, infantrymen jumping from LCVPs on Slapton Sands while paratroopers tested harness navigation skills around cow pastures and hawthorn brambles. There was some amount of confusion to be expected in such exercises - a plane going off course because of an untimely collision with a bird, a visit from the local constabulary complaining about a cache of troops in a standoff with the local Home Guard still assuming that old saw about invasions by German paratroopers.

But there was confusion, and then there was outright incompetence. What they'd just seen this weekend had all the hallmarks of the second, and now Dick was angry.

No, not just angry, Harry thought, watching his friend unload their troops from the trucks that had brought them back from their rally point. Richard Winters was furious.

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