emind
05-07-2010, 11:22 AM
http://imgur.com/eBOvy.jpg
Joseph Beyrle with his son.
....link (http://1victory.org/node/14)
On June 5, 1944, the night before D-Day, Joseph Beyrle parachuted behind enemy lines into Nazi-occupied France, into a hail of German bullets. As he jumped, just a few hundred meters away, he saw another transport plane carrying fellow servicemen burst into flames after being hit by enemy fire.
Joe’s own landing did not go well: he smashed onto the roof of a church in the village of Saint-Come-du-Mont. Worse still, after losing contact with fellow paratroopers, he found himself completely isolated. But this 20-year-old sergeant, a member of the legendary 101st Airborne's "Screaming Eagles,” an expert rifleman, wireless operator and explosives expert, was possessed of not only a strong body, but also an unyielding spirit.
Even before the Normandy landing, he had parachuted twice behind enemy lines to perform joint missions with French Resistance fighters in occupied France. He must have distinguished himself: they didn’t give out sergeant stripes for nothing in those days.
“It was my duty to fight the Nazis”, Beyrle, who always shied away from being called a hero, said many years later. “I volunteered to join the army. As an athlete I was offered a scholarship at the university. But my two elder brothers were already in the army, and I understood why. No matter how young I was then, I knew that Hitler was a mortal threat for us all.”
No question, it was bad luck to lose contact with your squad. But, as Beyrle reminded me, “we were trained to accomplish the mission even if we were on our own.” And that is precisely what he did. He first blew up a power substation, then several other targets. But then the Germans got the better of him. Beyrle was unlucky to run into a group of enemy soldiers. He threw a few grenades, and nearly escaped – until he jumped a hedgerow and found himself staring into the muzzle of a machine gun, a whole German squad keeping him in their sights.
Seven months of interrogations and torture followed; seven German camps and prisons, and two failed escape attempts. Having evaded the guards, he reasonably headed East towards advancing Russian allies. After his second escapee, though, it was a lack of knowledge of the situation that let him down. Joe and two fellow escapees mistakenly took a train to Berlin and ended up in the hands of the Gestapo. Fortunately, the Wehrmacht reclaimed him – formally, Gestapo had no right to hold army captives. It could be that the Wehrmacht just wanted to use Beyrle for its own purposes, as the officers took away his identification, something that was against all the rules. One way or another, the Wehrmacht inadvertently helped Beyrle solve his problems when it sent the American to the camp at Alt Drewitz in Poland. In January 1945, Joe, together with two other POWs, made another daring escape. Beyrle was the only one to dodge the guards’ bullets. He evaded the dogs by walking down the middle of a stream for several kilometers. Eventually he scrambled onto the other bank leaving the clueless dogs far behind. For two weeks during the day he hid wherever he could. At night he walked towards the ever-louder pounding of guns in the East.
The Russians came to him themselves. As their tanks rumbled towards the barn where he was hiding from German patrols, Beyrle came out with his hands high in the air. He was clutching his last waterlogged pack of Lucky Strikes, cigarettes issued to US soldiers, which except for his ragged paratrooper’s uniform was the only proof of his American identity. From Russian prisoners at the Alt Drewitz camp, he had learned a few phrases in their language. And now, facing Russian soldiers, he shouted: “Ya Amerikansky tovarishch! (I’m an American comrade!) Ya Amerikansky tovarishch!”
Beyrle was lucky: the tank battalion’s political commissar spoke some English. He helped him communicate with the commander – a tough woman with major’s stripes who had lost her husband and all her family in the war. In Beyrle’s memory, she came to symbolize all the suffering and grief of the Soviet people, as well as their tenacity and unbreakable spirit. But her name was far too complicated for him to remember. He called her simply “the Major” and that was how he remembered her all his life. Later, in the 1980s and 1990s, Joseph and his son John tried to find that battalion and its commander, but their efforts were in vain – the war left no record of them. So many people were laid to rest in common graves, so many units disappeared without a trace, with the few remaining soldiers sent to beef up less battle-bled divisions. The survivors cared little about records then – fighting on was the most important thing.
After treating her “American tovarishch” to vodka and soldier’s porridge, the Major said he would be sent to the rear, and then, along with other Americans liberated from prison camps, to Odessa, from where he would sail home to America. After hearing the translation Beyrle put down his glass. “I was not ‘liberated’ -- I escaped. I escaped to link up with you, and fight the Nazis with you. We are allies, aren’t we? We must fight together.” That was typical for Joseph Beyrle.
Joseph Beyrle with his son.
....link (http://1victory.org/node/14)
On June 5, 1944, the night before D-Day, Joseph Beyrle parachuted behind enemy lines into Nazi-occupied France, into a hail of German bullets. As he jumped, just a few hundred meters away, he saw another transport plane carrying fellow servicemen burst into flames after being hit by enemy fire.
Joe’s own landing did not go well: he smashed onto the roof of a church in the village of Saint-Come-du-Mont. Worse still, after losing contact with fellow paratroopers, he found himself completely isolated. But this 20-year-old sergeant, a member of the legendary 101st Airborne's "Screaming Eagles,” an expert rifleman, wireless operator and explosives expert, was possessed of not only a strong body, but also an unyielding spirit.
Even before the Normandy landing, he had parachuted twice behind enemy lines to perform joint missions with French Resistance fighters in occupied France. He must have distinguished himself: they didn’t give out sergeant stripes for nothing in those days.
“It was my duty to fight the Nazis”, Beyrle, who always shied away from being called a hero, said many years later. “I volunteered to join the army. As an athlete I was offered a scholarship at the university. But my two elder brothers were already in the army, and I understood why. No matter how young I was then, I knew that Hitler was a mortal threat for us all.”
No question, it was bad luck to lose contact with your squad. But, as Beyrle reminded me, “we were trained to accomplish the mission even if we were on our own.” And that is precisely what he did. He first blew up a power substation, then several other targets. But then the Germans got the better of him. Beyrle was unlucky to run into a group of enemy soldiers. He threw a few grenades, and nearly escaped – until he jumped a hedgerow and found himself staring into the muzzle of a machine gun, a whole German squad keeping him in their sights.
Seven months of interrogations and torture followed; seven German camps and prisons, and two failed escape attempts. Having evaded the guards, he reasonably headed East towards advancing Russian allies. After his second escapee, though, it was a lack of knowledge of the situation that let him down. Joe and two fellow escapees mistakenly took a train to Berlin and ended up in the hands of the Gestapo. Fortunately, the Wehrmacht reclaimed him – formally, Gestapo had no right to hold army captives. It could be that the Wehrmacht just wanted to use Beyrle for its own purposes, as the officers took away his identification, something that was against all the rules. One way or another, the Wehrmacht inadvertently helped Beyrle solve his problems when it sent the American to the camp at Alt Drewitz in Poland. In January 1945, Joe, together with two other POWs, made another daring escape. Beyrle was the only one to dodge the guards’ bullets. He evaded the dogs by walking down the middle of a stream for several kilometers. Eventually he scrambled onto the other bank leaving the clueless dogs far behind. For two weeks during the day he hid wherever he could. At night he walked towards the ever-louder pounding of guns in the East.
The Russians came to him themselves. As their tanks rumbled towards the barn where he was hiding from German patrols, Beyrle came out with his hands high in the air. He was clutching his last waterlogged pack of Lucky Strikes, cigarettes issued to US soldiers, which except for his ragged paratrooper’s uniform was the only proof of his American identity. From Russian prisoners at the Alt Drewitz camp, he had learned a few phrases in their language. And now, facing Russian soldiers, he shouted: “Ya Amerikansky tovarishch! (I’m an American comrade!) Ya Amerikansky tovarishch!”
Beyrle was lucky: the tank battalion’s political commissar spoke some English. He helped him communicate with the commander – a tough woman with major’s stripes who had lost her husband and all her family in the war. In Beyrle’s memory, she came to symbolize all the suffering and grief of the Soviet people, as well as their tenacity and unbreakable spirit. But her name was far too complicated for him to remember. He called her simply “the Major” and that was how he remembered her all his life. Later, in the 1980s and 1990s, Joseph and his son John tried to find that battalion and its commander, but their efforts were in vain – the war left no record of them. So many people were laid to rest in common graves, so many units disappeared without a trace, with the few remaining soldiers sent to beef up less battle-bled divisions. The survivors cared little about records then – fighting on was the most important thing.
After treating her “American tovarishch” to vodka and soldier’s porridge, the Major said he would be sent to the rear, and then, along with other Americans liberated from prison camps, to Odessa, from where he would sail home to America. After hearing the translation Beyrle put down his glass. “I was not ‘liberated’ -- I escaped. I escaped to link up with you, and fight the Nazis with you. We are allies, aren’t we? We must fight together.” That was typical for Joseph Beyrle.