Veteran: 'Better believe I was scared'

It seemed every time he and his fellow members of the U.S. Army's 82nd Airborne Division performed a practice parachute jump, someone would break a leg or an arm.

Florence resident Ambrose Underwood, a private in the division at the time, had grown to accept there never was a guarantee that his jumps would land him safely.

That's why, on this particularly cold predawn flight, Underwood couldn't believe what he was thinking. "That was the only time I was thinking about how I really wanted to jump."

Given the circumstances on that morning 64 years ago today, it's understandable that Underwood was ready to bail from the C-47 as it sliced through the French darkness.

Underwood was part of the D-Day invasion that ultimately liberated France. It has been remembered as one of the bloodiest battles in history, and there he was, about to literally jump into it.

As the plane flew above Sainte MereEnglise - which would become the first French city liberated in the battle - Underwood wondered whether he'd hit land in a chute or in a burning plane.

"Anti-aircraft rounds were flying at us, and I kept thinking the next one would hit our aircraft and we'd go down in flames," Underwood said. "You could look out of the plane and see other planes on fire."

Finally, the orders came to jump, and Underwood was among a procession of soldiers bailing into a sky that consistently shifted from blackness to lightning bright with each anti-aircraft shell and tracer aimed their way.

"I couldn't see my hand in front of my face," Underwood recalled. "I could just see the trace ammo and ack-ack (anti-aircraft fire).

"Someone told me later on that when I was in the plane, I looked scared. I told him, 'You'd better believe I was scared, and anyone who wasn't was crazy.' "

The fire that would light the sky didn't exactly ease Underwood's fears as he drifted down.

"When my chute opened, I could see about five guys floating together and saw traces of 10 or 15 rounds of ammo going toward them, and I knew they were hit," he said. "I saw some planes going down, and wondered if one was the one we were in."

Underwood touched down in farmland surrounded by thorny hedgerows. "I hit real hard, and figured the Germans saw that and were seeing whether I was alive."

He remained motionless for what seemed like an eternity, fearing that raising up would result in German fire. Finally, he decided he had to move, otherwise, daylight would come and he'd be a sitting duck.

So, Underwood crawled near the hedgerow and noticed some soldiers on the other side. He was relieved to hear them speak English. He reached for a clicker that the allies were given as a way to let one another know they're friendly. Underwood gave it a few clacks and they clacked in response.

He joined them, and soon additional allies joined up, as well. They won skirmishes on the way to Sainte MereEnglise, arriving as hints of daylight approached.

Once again, the light failed to provide soothing sights.

"It was hell to see Sainte MereEnglise," Underwood said. "The first thing that comes to mind about when we landed in Sainte MereEnglise and after that, was all the hell breaking loose and the sound of the shells. You couldn't see where they were going off, so you didn't know if one was headed your way."

One American soldier hung dead in his parachute from a church steeple. "We had to go under him, hugging the wall, with his blood dripping on us," Underwood recalls. "Then we saw about 10 or 15 others who had been killed."

Once daylight arrived, two American soldiers yelled for a medic, who ran toward them. "When he got there, Germans fired and cut them all to pieces. The medic had the red cross on his helmet and bag. Medics didn't carry weapons. The Germans had to know that."

The American soldiers were infuriated by the action, and another of many battles during the next few days ensued. There was no chance to rest.

Underwood and others tried to regain strength at night by sleeping in foxholes, but the Germans wouldn't allow it, sending artillery shell after artillery shell their way just to keep them awake. "Some nights, you'd go crazy with those loud booms. It was awful, and I think it was just to keep us from sleeping."

Ultimately, the battle was won, and the 82nd received a well-deserved week's furlough in London and a chance to get some sleep.

Underwood's tour of duty took him into other battles, including the Battle of the Bulge.

After the war, Underwood returned home. His parents and family never asked him about his experiences. Perhaps they recognized that he didn't want to discuss them.

In fact, he's only been able to talk about the war during the past decade or so. "About 10 years ago, I finally accepted that the artillery shells aren't going to get me, and I finally felt safe to talk about it," he said.

Looking back on those days, Underwood doesn't consider himself a hero. In fact, he feels guilty. He recalls growing up with Florence residents and fellow D-Day soldiers Alvin A. "Cowpuncher" Threet and Marvin Morgan. Threet was killed on the day after D-Day, and Morgan was killed on the third day of the invasion.

"Every once in a while, I say a prayer, thanking God for letting me live," he said. "But I still have feelings of guilt. Why was I able to get home and have a family, when Cowpuncher and Marvin weren't?"

Bernie Delinski can be reached at 740-5739 or bernie.delinski@timesdaily.com.