World War II Combat Veteran Recalls Parachuting Behind Enemy Lines With 82nd Airborne Division

Mel-and-Pat-Wagstaff
Sitting in his office at his spacious White Horse Road home that sprawls across a grassy knoll, Melvin Wagstaff looked healthy and fit for a veteran of World War II as he smiled and greeted visitors. Our host soon revealed that the years have taken a toll on his 86-year old body that for most of those years was solid and healthy. He now has health problems that modern medicine cannot reverse. Declining health is difficult for an indestructible “fighting machine” whose physical strength served him well during lengthy periods of combat and remained strong and healthy throughout a long and productive civilian life.

He minimized the Purple Heart in a shadow box with other medals hanging on the office wall beside another display containing his Ike Jacket, just as it was the day he was discharged from the Army after fighting across Europe from Normandy to Berlin. Finally, the peace he and his generation fought and sacrificed for was at hand. The display was a surprise gift from his wife and caring companion, Pat, who removed it from a closet where it had hung for years unnoticed and undisturbed.

Lieutenant Colonel Steve Shivers, U. S. Marine Corps, Retired, a fellow veteran and decorated hero of the Vietnam War, accompanied me on the visit. Steve has seen the horrors of war, was the last Marine to receive a battlefield commission during the Vietnam War and shares both joyful and painful memories with his long time friend “Mel” Wagstaff.

With World War II veterans becoming rare, Steve thought it would be good to record some of the memories of this veteran who simply did his duty as he saw it and remained quiet afterwards seeking no recognition or thanks for his service.

Melvin E. Wagstaff was a young man of 19 years who grew up in a North Carolina textile community and joined the Army along with many others of his age group willing to put their lives on the line for their country and to rid Europe of the Nazi scourge.

Mel was given that opportunity to serve and participate in winning the war by the 82nd Airborne Division commanded by General James Gavin, at the time the youngest general officer in the United States Army. “They called him ‘Slim Jim,’” Wagstaff recalled. “Gen. Gavin went everywhere we did and would always jump first.”

Mel and a GI friend, Henry Tyson, decided to go airborne while partying one night in England prior to D-Day. The decision would change his life forever.

His official service record, worn from years of handling, shows that he was engaged in combat in five campaigns, including Normandy, Northern France, Ardennes and Central Europe.

He would be part of the invasion force at Normandy on D-Day.  In fact, his unit was one of the first to land in enemy territory. They were dropped by parachute behind enemy lines in the village of Sainte-Mere-Eglise during the hours of darkness on the early morning before the Normandy Invasion over the beach. The paratroopers could not see each other and could not see where they were going to land on the ground. But fortunately, the Germans on the ground could not see them either. It was the first taste of combat for the young soldier who had not fully understood what he was getting into when he joined the Army and volunteered for the 82nd Airborne Division to do his patriotic duty for his country.

The paratroopers of the 82nd were among the first to fight in Normandy, France, as part of the largest airborne assault in history. The division was engaged in bloody combat for 33 days without relief or replacements and suffered 5,245 paratroopers killed, wounded or missing in action.

Back home, his mother wrote him a letter asking for a lock of his hair, apparently hoping to have something as a reminder of her son should he not return from the war. He complied with his mother’s request and the lock of hair taped to a piece of paper was cherished by his family and passed on to his wife who values the keepsake and keeps it secure to this day.

No combat operation goes exactly as planned and the night jump into enemy territory at 4:30 a.m. on D-Day was no exception. The troops of his unit were scattered over a large area and many missed the designated drop zone. Before they could become an effective fighting force and fight their way back to meet the invading forces coming over the beaches, they had to regroup.

They were issued “clickers” that sounded somewhat like a cricket to distinguish friend from foe during the hours of darkness. If they sensed someone was near, they clicked once. If the individual they encountered was another American, he clicked twice. If there was no click in response, they had made contact with someone other than an American and had to make a life or death decision on the spot.

His second combat jump was an even more terrifying experience. His unit was dropped into enemy territory at Nijmegen, Holland, during daylight hours. “It is a lot safer jumping at night,” Mel said.

“The people on the ground were shooting at us and we were shooting at them,” Mel recalled. “You had to be careful or you could shoot off your foot as you fired toward the ground as you were dangling under a parachute,” Mel said.

The paratroopers fought off numerous ferocious German counterattacks.

“We were on the outside for weeks at a time,” Mel said. It was late September and winter was coming on. “It was the coldest winter on record, but I never saw anyone get sick from it,” Mel recalled.

Brief hesitations and mistakes can be fatal in close combat. Mel recalls taking a calculated risk that could have resulted in his death, but proved mutually beneficial for the soldiers involved. On this occasion, Mel was a short distance from members of his unit, when he encountered a very young German soldier. I stepped into a clearing with my rifle strapped over my shoulder rather than in the ready position. I saw something move to my left, It was a German soldier. We were both stunned as we stared at each other. Nothing moved but our eyes. I was wondering how I was going to handle that, trying to figure out how I could get my rifle into firing position without panicking the German and getting shot. He did not fire and neither did I. After standing silently a few seconds, that seemed like a much longer time, we both turned and walked away. I don’t remember if one of us turned first or we did it simultaneously. I have often wondered if he survived the war. He was very young.”

Mel pointed out a soldier in a group photograph and remembered his first name. “He was in a foxhole and an “88” exploded in the foxhole with him. He vanished. We never found any part of him.”

As the 82nd fought through northern Germany, they liberated a concentration camp. Conditions in the camp were horrible. “You could not tell if some of the people were alive or dead, but occasionally one that seemed to be dead would blink their eyes and you knew there was still life. “The Germans in the little town denied knowing that the camp was there. We rounded them up and made them look at what had been done to those people When they refused to look we would grab them by the hair and turn their heads to make them look, as they screamed and yelled.”

Mel remembers hearing the German rockets called “buzz bombs” flying overhead. “They sounded just like an A-Model Ford,” he recalled. “When they ran out of fuel they fell to the ground and exploded.”

The day the war ended, Mel recalls seeing lines of German soldiers as far as you could see streaming down the road walking, on bicycles, in carts, cars, pulling artillery pieces and everything you could imagine to ride on. Germans were flowing from east to west getting as far away from the Russians as possible. They feared the Russians and wanted to surrender to the Americans.

Mel did not have enough points to be discharged immediately after the end of hostilities. The 82nd became part of the occupation force and he was stationed in Berlin where the troops lived in the best houses they could find standing.

Occupation duty was very good, but the paratroopers were still expected to jump from time to time.

“Every time a Congressman or dignitary would visit Berlin, they would have us jump for them at Templehoff Airport. A lot of troops got hurt out there. There were a lot of towers with guy wires and if you hit one of them your chute would collapse and you could get injured.”

Not unlike many combat veterans who saw the horrors of war up close, Mel declined to talk about his military service and experiences during World War II for many years after returning home.

Working in textiles most of the time following the war and serving as plant manager at several textile plants, many people who knew Mel never knew he was a combat veteran of some of the stiffest fighting of World War II, the last war American troops were allowed to win.

“Many of the combat experiences I have tried to forget,” Mel confessed. “I went almost 50 years and I didn’t talk about it.” It was not until members of his family surprised him with a trip to the World War II Memorial in Washington, D. C. that some of those suppressed memories begin to surface. It was a memorable experience.

“We spent a whole day at the memorial, and my son and grandson took me back that night. I was looking at the stars that as I recall each one is representing ten thousand Americans killed in action and the reflection of the monument in the water was indescribable. I had a flashback. It was the first time I ever had that. Suddenly I was back over there. It was as real as you are right now.”

We could sense the emotions surfacing in his voice and Steve quickly changed the topic of conversation.

Returning from the war after several months of occupation duty, Mel returned to his old “stomping grounds” and worked on the third shift in a textile plant while attending school and taking college curses full time.  He worked for several of the leading textile companies of the post war era that included Burlington, Cannon and Springs. He retired thirty-one years ago as plant manager. “I worked as plant manager for several companies. I went where they offered the best salary,” Mel said. He retired when he became fully vested in one of the retirement plans. “I retired, but continued to work,” Mel emphasized.

In recent years, America has been losing World War II veterans at an increasing rate. Their numbers have thinned and with them go a vast amount of original source history, work ethic and devotion to duty, to family, friends and country with which too much of the current generation is unfamiliar.

Not unlike the founders of our republic, the World War II generation was willing to sacrifice everything to keep freedom alive in “the land of the free because of the brave.”

We must cherish every moment we have an opportunity to spend with men like Melvin Wagstaff, who have not only experienced history in the making, but have made history.

Their sacrifices and accomplishments provide an example the current generation would be wise to emulate.

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