Fires of France dim golden moon
Blazes on coast described by fliers who photographed first assault wave
By Gene Currivan
Somewhere in England – (June 6)
As the large golden “invasion” moon was sinking this morning and shafts of dawn touched the eastern sky, great fires raged on the northern French coast, where the Allied armies had established a beachhead.
Offshore great armadas of warships, with air cover the like of which had never been seen, fired continuous broadsides over the sandy beaches and onto the land beyond. Below the trajectory of shellfire, fighting men representing many of the nations of the earth scrambled ashore.
From the coast of England to the French beaches of the Channel, the relatively calm water was churned by wave after wave of ships, some large enough to cast their eerie shadows in the early morning glow and others darting through like so many water-bugs. As they neared the shore great bombing salvos roared from gun emplacements on the land. As the ships moved relentlessly forward, the larger ones firing as they plowed ahead, tremendous geysers mushroomed from the sea. It looked as if the Channel were dotted with a strange assortment of fountains.
Shells fail to halt invaders
While the early waves of landing craft disgorged their passengers on the beaches and equipment rolled forth from others, shells from German guns concealed in ridges and embankments became intense, but there was no slackening in the stream of men and materials. It seemed that no power on earth could impede the momentum of this unending flow. At one point, at least, they continued in through meadows and woodlands.
This bird’s-eye view of the start of history’s greatest invasion as pieced together here this morning from the reports of the first two U.S. reconnaissance-photograph pilots to return to England. Still in their flying suits, they sat around the briefing room, while more than 1,000 photographs that they had taken were being developed, and told their stories even before Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower had broadcast to the world the announcement of the invasion.
Best German radio
They knew before they took off that they were to photograph the initial movements of D-Day. A couple of hours later, the German radio broadcast the news, but it was not until after they had returned with history already recorded on their films that the world knew certainly that the long-awaited day had arrived. The pilots were Lt. Col. G. A. Shoop of Beverly Hills, California, a former Army test pilot and commanding officer of an air station, and Maj. Norris E. Hartwell of Cheyenne, Wyoming.
These men cruised over the invasion area for almost two hours, photographing sometimes from only 500 feet in the face of deadly anti-aircraft fire. Not only did they encounter German fighter opposition. Everywhere they looked they saw fighters, but they were always Lightning, Thunderbolts, Mustangs, Spitfires or some other kind of Allied plane. They saw swarms of troops moving ashore and scurrying for cover and at other points they saw them walking nonchalantly along the beaches as if they had just completed tiresome maneuvers and were taking in the sights.
On another beach where the men had come under direct and withering fire, there were casualties and several trucks could be seen blazing. But equipment and men continued to pour ashore and, as soon as a ship had unloaded, it backed out and started away for another load. Meanwhile, the Navy kept up an incessant barrage, firing like artillery into the inner reaches and preparing the way for the advancing columns.
First flight as commander
Col. Shoop, who came to England as a test pilot a few months ago and expected to return to the United States last week, but was held here by the Army, was making his first flight as a commanding officer. When he first crossed the French coast at about 7:00 p.m., he said, there were a few fires burning, but about an hour later, when the Navy laid down its barrage, the coast was a mass of flames and most of the small villages along the shore were crackling to destruction.
Maj. Hartwell said that he had seen no sign of a naval battle and it seems that the Allied navies had complete control of the waters. It was obvious, he said, that the Germans had cluttered the water near the beaches with all kinds of obstacles, but nothing appeared to hinder the passage of the landing craft for long.
Col. Shoop and Maj. Hartwell were the first to go out and the first to return. All day long, other teams followed them on similar missions and they themselves were looking forward to another flight over the invasion coast this afternoon.
Realism tempers Algiers jubilance
French realize that beginning of liberation means new ordeal for country
By Harold Callender
Algiers, Algeria – (June 6)
In this temporary capital of France, where a half-million persons or more have relatives in France and thousands have homes there, the invasion, so long and so impatiently awaited, was greeted today with joy tempered by the realization that the beginning of liberation was another ordeal for France.
Frenchmen clung to their radios as fragments of news trickled through all day long. Clusters of people read bulletins in newspaper offices. Crowds stood in the central square to listen to Gen. Charles de Gaulle’s speech to France, relayed by loudspeakers.
The French recently out of France were far more excited than those long resident in Algiers, who have been largely on the margin of the war. Some of those from France have fought in resistance groups and been arrested by the Gestapo, fired on by German troops or locked in German prisons. There are some 23,000, mostly youths, who have recently escaped from France, while the émigrés who have swollen the North African population since the beginning of the war may number 400,000.
Many of these Frenchmen know intimately the parts of the coast invaded today. Many have homes that will be engulfed by the tide of battle. Many have wives and children in the area between the Allied landings and Paris. Yet they are glad that the landings have come at least, for they have long awaited it as an ordeal indispensable to liberation.
Some of these Frenchmen have helped to organize the underground, which is now officially called the interior French forces and forms part of the army. It embraces some 200,000 organized armed combatants who have awaited this day to coordinate their efforts with those of the Allies. Their role is not unlike that of parachutists behind the enemy’s lines.
The presence of Gen. de Gaulle in London became known to the public only after the invasion had begun. It seemed appropriate that he should be there to speak to the French nation with encouragement and advice in what was called today the second battle of France.