It’s June 5th, 1944, and Private Jake McNiece is inside one of many C-47s. The men of the 101st ready up. For most of the young men it’s their first taste of war.
"5 minutes out! " McNiece too takes his spot in the middle of the line. Outside pillars of bright tracers rise from the trees and fields.
Bullets fly all around. The men hold on as enemy fire tears the aircraft apart under their feet, shredding vital components. The aircraft is bleeding out, engines losing power.
McNiece knows they won’t reach the LZ. “Plane is falling! We are jumping now!
Go! Go! Go!
” “Baseball and Bill Lee! ” Alarmed the first soldier jumps off and the rest of the men follow, jumping one after the other with no hesitation. McNiece shuffles forward, ready for his turn.
A single bullet punches clean through a soldier’s parachute release. "Damn it, pick it up fast! " The soldier ahead of McNiece jumps away, leaving behind a wide-open door.
McNiece knows a second of hesitation can mean hundreds of yards of separation once they hit the ground. He must stick with his men. He can't help.
McNiece jumps out the door, his parachute opening up in the night sky. McNiece stares in horror as the aircraft flies further and further away with no more parachutes. He has just lost two thirds of his fighting force and will now land at least 8 miles away from the target.
His orders to destroy two secondary bridges and prevent advancing German troops from crossing a third one is going to be much more difficult now. McNiece slams into the dirt, all alone. He cuts the straps of his chute and rushes in the general direction of his other men.
There’s enemy movement all around, with emplacements and bunkers everywhere… But it's exactly what he was trained to deal with. He reveals his iconic mohawk. It's a proud representation of McNiece’s Choctaw heritage.
and it's already a legendary sign of the unit called “The Filthy Thirteen”. Ever since he's enrolled McNiece has been a thorn in the side of his superiors. A man who recognizes no ranks, unafraid of speaking his mind to incompetent leadership, disobeying orders as he sees fit, and yet he's so unbelievably effective his powerful detractors cannot get rid of him.
He moves quickly through the French hedgerows, silent like a ghost. Distant gunshots are reminder of the cost of failure. Then, in the distance, he spots something.
A parachute is strewn across a road! Its owner lies crumpled on the asphalt, still strapped in, and unmoving. "Baseball and Bill Lee.
Baseball and Bill Lee. " McNiece watches the sorry sight from afar. The soldier must’ve broken his back, perhaps mistaking the dark road for an irrigation ditch from above.
He thinks twice about charging out for his brother-in-arms. He is out in the open with Germans all around, there is no aid station to speak of, and he doesn’t have any instruments to tend to such injuries. So with a heavy heart, he is forced to abandon the poor man "I am sorry, boy.
" and push on. He lays low, moving from hedgerow to hedgerow. Germans also hide within them, forcing him to be extremely careful.
But with so many enemies a slip is virtually unavoidable. Gunshots ring out from behind him, striking into the ground mere inches away! He dives for cover, taking out his rifle, and returns fire.
As a full-on shootout starts the enemy unit spray his position with lead, bullets cracking over his head. He fires a couple more times to keep them under cover before hurriedly retreating, before more enemies come to his location. He moves swiftly but stealthily, outmaneuvering the Germans in the dark, leaving them behind.
He finally has a chance to slow down. Gathering his breath, it dawns on him. He hadn’t lost two-thirds of his men.
He had lost every single one. The night turns to morning, with no change. He is still all alone, deep in enemy territory.
"Did they cancel the invasion or what? " McNiece notices a movement in the foliage, at an intersection between hedgerows. He freezes.
Is it German or American? He can’t tell. He uses the codeword.
"Thunder. " No response. "Thunder.
" Silence. Those must be Germans. McNiece attaches his bayonet, and then fearlessly charges towards the position.
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Start your video career today. "Flash! Flash!
" It's an American. "What in the hell are you doing? !
” “Shh, boy, you better be careful about running at these dugouts. They're full of Germans. Right across the lot they've got two machine guns.
" "I wasn't the one who was about to get killed, you idiot! " If you had waited one more second, you would have had your ass on the end of this bayonet rooting you across this field. The soldier explains.
He's just an ammo guy for a machine gunner who's gone missing. He had no weapons and thought it was better to keep quiet rather than to give away his position to the Germans while unarmed. McNiece takes two grenades off his belt.
“Take these. We’re on the attack now, no more running. ” "Let’s go.
" "Where to? " "Carentan" They move stealthily, slowly, but surely making progress, leaving no trace. Moving through the flooded fields they notice parachutes are floating in the middle.
Suddenly, there’s a noise. Voices! They duck down and hide out of view, listening to the indistinct chatter and laughter taking place on the other side of the hedgerow.
"They're American. " "How do you know? " “No German would fight a war like that.
That's got to be three stupid paratroopers. ” "Thunder! " "Flash!
" He was right, 3 Americans. And even better, part of his own team. "McNasty, good to see you’re still kicking.
" "Likewise. Any injuries? " "No, us three are fine.
" "Still got the demo charges? Good, we move on with the mission then. " "Just the five of us?
" "Do you have any more? Then the 5 of us it is. Come on, let's move.
" For the next day, McNiece leads the group on their way to Carentan, finding more men along the way. Bouts of action spring up during which McNiece’s men would prove to be exceptional fighters. He later wrote: "This was a beautiful part about paratrooping.
It was a commando-type operation. If we bumped into a company of Germans marching along through there, why, two of us would just lay in and kill fifteen to thirty of them and then we were gone. They could not interrupt an operation just to hunt down two paratroopers.
We just went right on through them, just like a bunch of bobcats. " Soon McNiece’s group of dirty and ragged men stumble across the headquarters of Colonel Howard R. Johnson, "Hey men, who's in charge here?
" commander of the 501st Infantry Regiment. "Good to see more men are making it out of this meat grinder. You’re being assigned to our unit.
Go take up position on that section of the defensive perimeter, over there. " "No, that's not right, Johnson. I've got another assignment on these bridges, I need to take them down.
You can't use me out here as just a line man. " "That's been rescinded. You're part of this position now.
You go out there and establish a perimeter defense right in that section. " "Okay. Idiot.
Come on men, let's get moving and take some of these rations. " McNiece starts walking towards the defensive line and walks right past the line. "McNasty, where are you going?
" "To Carentan to blow those bridges. " "But Johnson said. .
. " "Like I give a damn about what Johnson says. I'm off to Carentan.
Whoever wants to do something useful in this war can follow me. " The men press on the advance, moving across the enemy territory. "Sir, McNiece and his men left their post!
" Colonel Johnson considers the news. In his mind it's impossible to hold the strategic bridge against the growing German forces. And if the Germans get through, he and his men will be outnumbered.
He makes a difficult decision if there is no news from McNiece within a few days, he will order planes to destroy the bridge, regardless of its strategic importance to the allied army. Meanwhile, McNiece and his squad successfully make it to the waterway of the Douve River. They get to the secondary bridges, destroy them, and move up to the main bridge.
Concealed from the Germans on the other side of the river, they dig their foxholes and set up defensive positions. And there it is, just a stone's throw away, the bridge they are meant to hold all on their own. "Come on, let's set up these charges in case we have to blow it.
" They get to work, still under the cover of darkness. German activity in the area is heavy, but the surveillance of the bridge is surprisingly lax. McNiece and his demolition men move out over the causeways, sneaking under the bridge with charges in their hands.
Together they rig up the support pillars, ready to blow if they can’t hold the position. The men return undetected. Around them soldiers take time to eat, a few getting some shut-eye.
Not McNiece, however. He still has to make his foxhole. He’s done just before daybreak.
The Americans wait anxiously, rifles in hand. with a handful of lookouts peeking over the causeway, ready to trigger the ambush the second the German reinforcements step on that bridge. The silence is broken as a mortar round slams into the earth right in front of McNiece.
The Americans scramble to respond. Lead flies across the river, soldiers from both sides unleash heavy volumes of fire as mortar rounds crash behind the American positions. At the back, McNiece picks himself up, disoriented and in great pain.
He's completely blind. He brings his hands to his eyes and feels blood. He can't have gone blind!
Not now! Every blink hurts massively, and with each one his vision clears. The blood came from his hands, the mortar exploding into small metal splinters had peppered his body with small injuries.
But he can still see and hold a gun. Picking up his M1 Garand, he rushes back into the fight, firing across the river despite the terrible pain he's in. Bullets slam scarily close.
In the chaos, an American behind cover falls. "Man down! " Then another.
The causeway they depended on somehow is not providing the expected protection. "Where is that coming from? " "Sniper!
" Another man falls. Scanning the battlefield, McNiece reaches a realization. "Get down everyone, he's in that staple!
" "Are you sure? " "It's the only place it can be in! Light it up!
" All nearby weapons focus on the old church, littering it with lead. The sniper fire stops and the Screaming Eagles recover the initiative. "Good work.
" The Germans try everything at their disposal to take out the Americans, McNiece’s men endure mortar fire, coordinated with charges across the bridge. "They are trying to get to the bridge. " But none of the Germans make it through.
McNiece and his men relentlessly hold off an enemy force multiple times their size. They constantly relocate, firing from all across the causeway while the Germans are stuck trying to push an exposed chokepoint. After 5 days of valiant defense, a roar is heard in the distance.
It's aircraft. But it's not coming from the German side. "No.
" P-51 Mustangs loaded with bombs appear over the horizon. They close in fast on McNiece’s position. It dawns on McNiece that out of all the people he had picked up, none were radiomen.
"No. No. Take cover!
" The men scramble into their foxholes, McNiece makes it moments before the Mustangs unleash a storm of bullets into the American position. And line up with the bridge. It is a direct impact, the bridge detonates into a million pieces.
Debris rains down on the foxholes, claiming further casualties. Then the American aircraft turn back around and unload the rest of the bombs into both sides of the river. When the dust finally settles McNiece finds a line in shambles, and the one thing they were meant to protect is destroyed beyond repair.
But at least now their fight with the Germans on the other side is over, giving them time to rest and tend to the wounded. "You all did well, boys. " "Now it's all over.
" "The Germans are coming from behind! " More Germans appear, but this time they come from the woods behind the American positions. McNiece orders everyone into cover and to open fire!
The crackle of American machineguns fills the air and the incoming mass of Germans scramble for cover, caught completely by surprise. Gunfire quiets down and a pair of Germans emerge waving a white flag. "Surrender?
" "Nein. We want to ask you to surrender. " “What in the hell do you mean, 'us surrender'?
" "Why, we would not surrender to thirty or forty people. We've got a whole battalion. " "Well, get your ass out in the water and come right on out here!
" Silence lingers for a moment until suddenly the Germans shout a war cry and charge out of cover. Immediately they are met by machine gun fire, tearing across their lines upon the open ground. It is completely one-sided.
The German attack rapidly collapses, soldiers dashing back for the safety of their ditches while their brave brothers that pressed on succumb to McNiece’s machine guns. Moments later, the American unit the Germans were fleeing from appears in the woods. After so long, McNiece could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
At long last, he had backup. Despite the destruction of the bridge, the main objective of preventing further reinforcements against the D-Day landings was successful. McNiece would continue fighting throughout the entire war, which we may cover in later videos.
Let us know in the comments if you would like to hear more. Private Jake McNiece passed away on January 21, 2013, aged 93.
