battery west of Utah Beach. Leaving a small detail with the Holophanes and injured troopers at the Saint-Germain church, heâd led a scouting party comprised of Wilhelm, Jones, and several others up and down the road toward Saint-Martin-de-Varreville, probing for enemy soldiers at its edges and wanting to learn what he could about the disposition of the German artillery that Lieutenant Dicksonâs still-missing team had been sent to recon.
A short while before running into Cassidy, Lillymanâs party had gone as far south as the two exits near the W-X-Y-Z complex, traipsed off the road, and abruptly realized they were in the very spot where the gun emplacements were shown on their maps.
Surprise had flickered in their eyes. The site was a silent ruin, its soil pitted and blackened, torn up by the five-hundred-pound demolition bombs dropped in the two preparatory Allied airstrikes. Wherever they turned, the Pathfinders saw crates of German arms and supplies scattered about like scale-model pieces thrown from a violently upended tabletopâsome with their lids still on, others blown to splintery bits, their disgorged contents randomly strewn around them.
There was no sign of the German troops that had occupied the siteâonly the weapons and equipment theyâd left behind. A Renault R35 light tank seized from the French Army lay flipped over on its dome. Three of the four guns were gone, removed from their concrete bunkers. The remaining cannon, a 122mm Soviet howitzer captured on the Eastern Front, had been partly rolled out of the bunker that housed it when the structure collapsed into heaps of rubble, burying the portion of the weapon that was still inside. On inspection, Lillyman had concluded that the German artillerymen tasked with rescuing the cannon must have fled as the bombers made their run . . . and that the bunker had taken a direct hit.
And that was it. There was nothing else. The field was spooky and deserted.
Lillyman hadnât wanted to linger amid the debris. The emplacement had been a source of much nervous hand-wringing for U.S. Army brass, who would be landing more than twenty thousand troops at Utah beach in a scant few hours. He was eager to pass on word of his discovery.
After ordering a few of the men to stay behind at the abandoned gun position, he and Wilhelm had headed back up toward Saint-Germain, where heâd planned to radio word of his find to his commanders from the church.
As it turned out that wouldnât be needed. Now several hundred men strong and made up of paratroopers from both the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions, Pat Cassidyâs patchwork fighting force had appeared on the road ahead of Lillyman. Marching toward him in the predawn grayness, the dark-haired, smartly mustached colonel headed up the column.
Lillyman hastily told Cassidy what heâd seen up the road.
âIâve got news for you,â he said. âI scouted that coastal battery. Itâs thoroughly bombed out. No need to worry about that one.â
The perceptible sigh of relief that escaped the colonelâs lips would be shared by the entire U.S. 4th Infantry divisional command. A major obstacle to the landing had been neutralized.
Neither man was about to bask in his good fortune, though. Cassidy had yet to secure the beach exits for the infantry, and there was no telling what sort of resistance heâd encounter at the W-X-Y-Z barracks.
In a hurry to move on, the colonel ordered Lillyman to gather the rest of his men and head up to Foucarville, where he wanted to establish roadblocks to seal off the northern margin of his operational area, preventing German reinforcements from pushing down the road into it.
Lillyman snapped him a salute, wished him luck, and started toward his assigned destination. But within hours his group of Pathfinders would be given a new set of orders.
5.
Beamy Beamesderfer had landed in darkness and water up to his
A short while before running into Cassidy, Lillymanâs party had gone as far south as the two exits near the W-X-Y-Z complex, traipsed off the road, and abruptly realized they were in the very spot where the gun emplacements were shown on their maps.
Surprise had flickered in their eyes. The site was a silent ruin, its soil pitted and blackened, torn up by the five-hundred-pound demolition bombs dropped in the two preparatory Allied airstrikes. Wherever they turned, the Pathfinders saw crates of German arms and supplies scattered about like scale-model pieces thrown from a violently upended tabletopâsome with their lids still on, others blown to splintery bits, their disgorged contents randomly strewn around them.
There was no sign of the German troops that had occupied the siteâonly the weapons and equipment theyâd left behind. A Renault R35 light tank seized from the French Army lay flipped over on its dome. Three of the four guns were gone, removed from their concrete bunkers. The remaining cannon, a 122mm Soviet howitzer captured on the Eastern Front, had been partly rolled out of the bunker that housed it when the structure collapsed into heaps of rubble, burying the portion of the weapon that was still inside. On inspection, Lillyman had concluded that the German artillerymen tasked with rescuing the cannon must have fled as the bombers made their run . . . and that the bunker had taken a direct hit.
And that was it. There was nothing else. The field was spooky and deserted.
Lillyman hadnât wanted to linger amid the debris. The emplacement had been a source of much nervous hand-wringing for U.S. Army brass, who would be landing more than twenty thousand troops at Utah beach in a scant few hours. He was eager to pass on word of his discovery.
After ordering a few of the men to stay behind at the abandoned gun position, he and Wilhelm had headed back up toward Saint-Germain, where heâd planned to radio word of his find to his commanders from the church.
As it turned out that wouldnât be needed. Now several hundred men strong and made up of paratroopers from both the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions, Pat Cassidyâs patchwork fighting force had appeared on the road ahead of Lillyman. Marching toward him in the predawn grayness, the dark-haired, smartly mustached colonel headed up the column.
Lillyman hastily told Cassidy what heâd seen up the road.
âIâve got news for you,â he said. âI scouted that coastal battery. Itâs thoroughly bombed out. No need to worry about that one.â
The perceptible sigh of relief that escaped the colonelâs lips would be shared by the entire U.S. 4th Infantry divisional command. A major obstacle to the landing had been neutralized.
Neither man was about to bask in his good fortune, though. Cassidy had yet to secure the beach exits for the infantry, and there was no telling what sort of resistance heâd encounter at the W-X-Y-Z barracks.
In a hurry to move on, the colonel ordered Lillyman to gather the rest of his men and head up to Foucarville, where he wanted to establish roadblocks to seal off the northern margin of his operational area, preventing German reinforcements from pushing down the road into it.
Lillyman snapped him a salute, wished him luck, and started toward his assigned destination. But within hours his group of Pathfinders would be given a new set of orders.
5.
Beamy Beamesderfer had landed in darkness and water up to his
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