JR’ mentioned that during times when the smoke cleared he saw Germans ‘pop-up’ from the ground at the cliff’s top.
“It was like them bushwhackers were on a titter-totter; first they were visible with machine-guns blasting and then dropping from sight down into a hole . . . it was like we were fish in a barrel for the Germans.”
By the time JR’ and his men reached the beach the 2nd Battalion Rangers had just made it to the cliff’s top at Pointe de Hoc, a few miles west of Omaha Red.
Range of Artillery Fire at Pointe du Hoc
The 2nd Rangers under Colonel Rudder had a mission to knock out the German Artillery Battery positioned along the cliffs top. They found ‘telephone poles’ used as decoy’s to represent the cannons . . . the real German Artillery had been moved inland to avoid the heavy bombing along the coastal shoreline. The diversion tactic had worked for about an hour . . . as Rudder’s Rangers found the real cannons and destroyed them all.
“Had those guns not been found and disabled—the massacre on Omaha and Utah beaches would have been much worse,” JR’ said.
“Many Generals and Historians believe destroying them cannons allowed the Normandy Invasion to continue. Without that happening . . . the Germans could have turned the outcome of the war,” he noted.
German Artillery Bunker - Pointe du Hoc
There is no question that disabling those guns aided the effort of the Allied Force landing. Had they been able to bombard Omaha and Utah beaches with their range of cannon fire, casualties on both beaches would have reached the point of making the decision to abandon the invasion most plausible.
“As it was . . . with our first wave, General Bradley (Omar Bradley, the Commanding General of Operation Overlord-Normandy Invasion) almost pulled out the backup landing forces when seeing the destruction of the initial forces.”
Omaha Beach Landing
JR’ remembers vividly wading through ‘blood-red’ water scurrying from one hedge-post beach obstacle to another, hurrying to reach the beach seawall that would provide better cover. He passed many dead and dying soldiers strewn along the rising waters edge.
“It was a sight to behold, he said, the soldiers hollering; crying, shell-shocked from the explosions . . . most dead with a last blank stare.”
“Every Ranger knew what we had to do—they were to reach the beach and advance inland, up the hill, meet at the top and kill as many Germans as possible along the way.”
JR’ watched his men as close as he could, but didn’t see any particular episode where any one man was shot or killed. He thanked the smoke and the fact that the Germans couldn’t specifically see or focus their target on any individual or group of men.
“The Germans shot randomly through the smoke dropping a helluva lot of soldiers, but thank God the smoke gave us some cover. It was thick and heavy sometimes and clear the other times.”
“We finally reached the seawall—but it was not all that high, so we had to duck down and push in behind the men who were already there. We were stacked tight like ‘sardines in a can’ behind that seawall,” JR’ laughed.
JR’ witnessed the slaughter of many soldiers coming in behind him from LCV’s. The smoke had cleared somewhat giving the German’s superb visibility with an excellent firing range from the cliff above. JR’s ‘fish in a barrel’ cliché couldn’t have been more appropriate than the situation presented at Omaha Beach Red. It was horrific!
“Many soldiers lost their weapons running so fast . . . they wanted to reach the beach and the water slowed their running making them an easier target.” “They wanted out of the water,” he frowned.
“Some made it . . . many didn’t.”
Not too long after JR’ arrived at the seawall, the incident attributed to Brigadier General Norman Cota, was within earshot of JR’.
“I was looking at the cliff’s top trying to pick-off a German who was firing down on us . . . about then, I heard someone say; ‘God-dammit then, Rangers lead the way.’ I didn’t know who it was or who said it but about that time every damn Ranger behind the seawall was over the top headed inland,” JR’ chuckled.
Later, General Cota was awarded a Distinguished Service Cross (second highest honor for courage in battle behind the Medal of Honor), for his auspicious pronouncement of ‘Lead the Way, Rangers’ during incredible machine gun fire from above. This saying by General Cota became the motto for U.S. Army Rangers from that time forward.
General Cota’s shouting came as a result of his courageous stalking up and down the machine-gun riddled beach behind the tightly-packed soldiers along the seawall. He finally asked ‘who was the commanding officer of this group,’ several shouted its Colonel Schneider down the way.
Cota found Schneider and asked who the hell this group of soldiers were; ‘the Rangers Sir,’ retorted Schneider . . . then came Cota’s famous decree, ‘Rangers, lead the way.’ This was a historic time and one all U.S. Army Rangers will never forget.
Brigadier General Norman Cota
Lieutenant Colonel Max Schneider
As the Rangers crossed the seawall . . . no more than twenty-five yards away was the barricade every soldier hates, barbed wire. It is like a poisonous spider that jumps on you if you’re too close. More like being caught up in the spiders’ web . . . a web that wraps you, covers you, and cuts you as it digs deeper into your skin with every movement you make.
German Barbed-Wire -- Omaha Beach
Captain Whittington was one of the first to reach the wire. He was a ‘crusty son-of-a-gun’ as JR’ says and ‘tough as nails and twice as ornery.’
“Captain Whittington was from Texas where he came from the oil fields—he also boxed some and was good with his fists. I know because me and him had it out one day after he insulted my men. We fought with our bare fists and he could punch hard, damn hard,” said JR’. Actually the two men, JR’ and Whittington, were distant friends probably respecting each others grit and determination.
Captain George P. Whittington, Jr.
As Captain Whittington, Lieutenant Pepper and a few other soldiers lay ten yards or so from the barbed wire blockade, Whittington hollered for a Bangalore torpedo, an explosive device created especially for barbed wire obstacles and mine fields.
‘Copeland, get that f***ing Banger up here now,’ Whittington said, who also had a crusty voice with a sailor’s vocabulary.
JR’ was at the rear of nearly 50 soldiers but heard Captain Whittington’s order loud and clear. He grabbed the Bangalore (Banger) from the Bazooka man (soldier in charge of carrying such weapons), and began to run toward Captain Whittington.
“Didn’t get very far . . . my left leg gave out and down I went.”
The wound in his left foot was burning like it was on fire. The pain in his lower leg created a cramping sensation causing most of JR’s left side to become numb from the waist down.
‘His legs are shot Captain,’ some soldier yelled.
In an instant another soldier grabbed up the Banger and headed toward Whittington. They set the device, detonated it and ran through the created gap in the wire.
JR’ got up and ran too. As they passed the wire and approached the cliffs bottom Captain Whittington fanned the men in different directions to ascend the cliff.
The soldiers were warned this area would probably contain mine fields. JR’, spotted a beaten-down pathway and led his now fifteen men across what was later found to be a heavily mined field.
“I thought the pathway was a good indicator of where the Germans knew to walk—we just followed the path which turned out to be the right decision.”
You could say JR’ was either damn lucky or damn smart. He’d probably say both.
Anyone could say it was a natural decision, an easy decision—taking the beaten-down pathway. Seems like the ‘smart’ decision wouldn’t you think? But . . . what if the Germans had planted mines in that pathway thinking that anyone who saw a beaten path would naturally take it and consequently be blown up. So . . . was
it a smart decision or a lucky decision?
In my opinion it was the smart decision. As much as any individual would like to believe—wartime and battlefield maneuvers are not always strategic triumphs. My thoughts are that JR’ knew, or at least had an notion, that the Germans prepared the minefield in such a way as for them to move through it when the situation arose. By having a recognizable path through the minefield the Germans could move freely about the area.
“I made the decision to go ahead of my men ten or fifteen feet so if I stepped on a mine it would only be me. Could the pathway have been mined—sure, but I figured I’m also lucky,” he laughed.
Lucky indeed, I thought. His leg was numb, his balance questionable . . . but his courage insurmountable. He knew what he had to do and he did it. JR’s men had seen his strength, courage and forthrightness plenty times prior, in training. They knew what to expect from Ranger Copeland . . . fortunately, he had high expectations of himself.
JR’ admitted he felt extremely upset when falling down with the Bangalore, not being able to respond to Captain Whittington. He said it was the only thing disappointing him about his war performance. Only he would have felt this way. From the day he had heard about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, through all the training and now on the battlefield—he wanted to right the wrong Hitler had inflicted upon the United States. He was then and is now, a proud man.
“We got through the mine field without a problem and gathered in a crevice at the bottom of the cliff where I instructed them to go on without me,” JR’ frowned.
“Turning my command over—I headed back to the seawall.”
Knowing his injuries would hamper his men’s climbing of the cliff and further move inland, JR’ handed over his section’s leadership to his second-in-command. They moved forward.
At the seawall JR’ finally took a closer look at his wounds. He noticed earlier that the heel of his left boot had been shot off. He saw two puncture holes on the boots inside heel above the missing boot heel. Cutting the laces of the boot from top to bottom he exposed the wound. Seeing nothing but blood he felt around his foot finding two punctures on the inside heel. There was only one puncture on the outside of his heel where one bullet went straight through, the other bullet went somewhere else. Later it was determined to be lodged in the top of his foot behind the second toe.
“Had to cut the top of my boot off to get my foot back inside . . . it was a mess to look at. I cut my right leg pants where a bullet went in my calf, it was okay, didn’t start hurting bad til about three days later.”
The left foot was a serious wound. So serious, the doctors at the Evacuation hospital back in England wanted to amputate the foot. JR’ said no and that was that. He was used to getting his way.
As JR’ sat on the beach, backed up next to the seawall, he saw plenty of soldiers ‘meet their maker’ as they came ashore. It was a steady continuation of German bombs, rocket explosions and machine-gun/sniper fire along the beach stretching 200 yards into the water. Bloody Omaha continued unabated.
“It was hell seeing soldiers mowed down along the beach . . . every now and then I’d pop up and let my Thompson rip at a German on the cliff,” he said laughing.
Omaha Beach later on D-Day
There really wasn’t much he could do given his wounds. He spent most of the day cleaning rifles for the soldiers who had come ashore without a weapon and JR’ making them go back to get one from a dead soldier.
“I must have cleaned a dozen rifles packed with sand and grit, I’d hand them to a soldier and they would advance. It made me feel a part of their effort.”
JR’ was ‘tagged’ three times that day by medical staff. Tagged, meaning that you’re ready to be evacuated to the hospital back in England. He refused to go . . . to be evacuated. He wanted to contribute as much as he could and the war was not over for him, not by a long shot.
Toward the evening a medical Captain looked over JR’s wounds and tagged him ready to be carried to a waiting LCVT (Landing Craft Vehicle Tank), converted to carry the dead and wounded.
“He said, ‘you’re to be evacuated on the next boat Copeland’ . . . I said, ‘evacuated, you mean eliminated,’ I’ll go when I’m damn well ready. That beach was still hot with sniper fire and artillery explosions going on—and I stayed til well into the night.”
JR’ knew his odds of being targeted along with four stretcher carriers, was not good. He remembered a tank stopping along the beach and the officer beside him waiving them away—he knew that tank was a big target and wanted nothing to do with it.
“Call me lucky or smart but I knew damn well the chances of me making it to that LCVT, I’d been on that beach all day and I saw what was happening—sometimes you have to make your own luck,” he chuckled. I thought how smart this guy was with his eighth-grade education.
JR’ eventually boarded a LCVT heading back to the English port, spending the next three days on the boat before entering the 97th Evacuation Hospital.
“They cut and cut and couldn’t find the bullet, finally finding it on top of my foot behind my toes. They wanted to amputate my foot and I said hell no.”
“A couple weeks later they moved me to the 318th General Hospital, near Oxford England, for longer term recovery. It was hell reading about the war going on and me here in bed.”
Within three months JR’ was loaded on the British Queen Mary Troop Transport Ship headed back to the United States. Finally arriving in Memphis, Tennessee, close to where he started in the Rangers back in 1943.
JR’ was to continue his long-term recovery of leg and foot wounds at Kennedy General Hospital in Memphis.
From the day JR’ was shot til the day he was released from the Army he spent 8½ months in various hospital’s in Europe and The United States recovering from his wounds.
Ranger JR’ Copeland was dismissed from The United States Army on February 8, 1945.
Kennedy General Hospital – later - Kennedy Veterans Administration Hospital - Memphis Tennessee
Chapter Six
JR’ Copeland after the War
JR’ left Memphis the day he was released from the Army, February 8, 1945. He was headed for Baltimore, Maryland, to marry his sweetheart, Martha Marshal. And, he was in a big hurry.
He traveled by train but doesn’t remember exactly how long it took to get to Baltimore . . . ‘not long’ he said. JR’ had a lot on his mind that day.
On February 14th, Valentine’s Day, JR’ Copeland and Martha Marshal were married—it was the same day his father and mother married thirty-five years earlier. Two days of lounging around Baltimore they then headed for West Virginia, back to JR’s family home in Sanger. The day after arriving he went to work driving a truck for Cliff Garten, coalmine owner who he had worked for in pre-war times.
Relations between JR’ and Garten had not changed from previous times and probably—was even worse. JR’ had his fill of Garten within a few days and not wanting to fall back into his previous coal-mining and ice-delivery occupations he decided to pack up and return to Baltimore, to explore more fully any work ventures there. Within the year he was steadily working for and enjoying being on a crew for a local railroad maintenance company in Delaware. The same company brother Edgar worked for when he and JR’ visited, prior to leaving for England.
JR’ and Martha loved each other dearly, enjoying their life together through the difficulties of early work endeavors and making a home for themselves. And, as things naturally progress in a loving marriage; in 1948 the couple became proud parents of their first child who they named Vicki.
More time pasted, about fifteen months, when JR’ and Martha’s love grew even stronger as could be testified by the birth of a second child. They named her Barbara, calling her ‘Bobby.’ JR’ truly loved having children.
Lastly, again about fifteen months after Bobby, came James Anthony Copeland, a son, named after JR’s father.
As work for the railroad became sporadic the family made their way to Michigan,
encouraged by a friend JR’ knew. The time was around 1952. He settled in a new job right away and soon began construction on a new home for his growing family.
JR’ excelled at many work professions as he was a hard worker and a natural leader. Whenever he found an employer worthy of his talent, leadership and drive, he settled in and advanced through the company ranks. He did well and was comfortable with railroad maintenance companies but also succeeded in the produce business for a time.
Finally, JR’ settled at Evans Products Company, who manufactured seamless tubes in Southeast Michigan, outside Detroit. He was employed there for many years.
Aside from his current contentment of enjoyable and steady work, JR’ also energized himself with other activities, as you could well imagine. Here are but a few extracurricular activities JR’ pursued after leaving the battlefield: having another motorcycle, in fact several at different times, building and racing dirt-track stock cars . . . and flying a plane. Yes, after a few meager flying instructions, he soloed flying a small plan across the country. Shortly into JR’s flying venture the local airport administrators grounded him for buzzing a man’s house who claimed that JR’ had knocked off a beer can from the top of his chimney.
“The plane didn’t get that close to his chimney . . . it was the planes air-blast that knocked off the beer can, not the plane itself,” JR’ chuckled. Nevertheless, that incident ended his flying escapades.
JR’s car racing ventures gained him some recognition, popularity and the occasional winner’s purse. He loved it so—that and riding his Harley. Throughout his life he must have owned a half dozen Harleys’ . . . his favorite motorcycle.
Bloody Omaha - My Remembrances of That Day by James Robert Copeland Page 4
