Imagine standing on a beach under relentless fire, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Today, we recount the gripping tale of Lt. Ray Nance and Company A as they faced the unimaginable horrors of D-Day on June 6, 1944.
Through vivid storytelling and firsthand accounts, you'll experience the bravery and chaos that defined this historic day.
Join us for an emotional and poignant tribute to the courage and resilience of those who fought for our freedom. Hear the harrowing experiences of Nance and his men, where every step could be their last, and every decision a matter of life and death.
Key Points from the Episode:
We take you right to the heart of the action, as Nance navigates the treacherous sands of Normandy, battling not just the enemy but also the elements and the weight of his mission.
This episode is a testament to the human spirit's capacity to endure and triumph against overwhelming odds.
It's a powerful reminder of the sacrifices made for liberty and the enduring legacy of those who gave their all.
Want to leave a review? Click here, and if we earned a five-star review from you **high five and knuckle bumps**, we appreciate it greatly, thank you so much!
Imagine standing on a beach under relentless fire, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Today, we recount the gripping tale of Lt. Ray Nance and Company A as they faced the unimaginable horrors of D-Day on June 6, 1944.
Through vivid storytelling and firsthand accounts, you'll experience the bravery and chaos that defined this historic day.
Join us for an emotional and poignant tribute to the courage and resilience of those who fought for our freedom. Hear the harrowing experiences of Nance and his men, where every step could be their last, and every decision a matter of life and death.
Key Points from the Episode:
We take you right to the heart of the action, as Nance navigates the treacherous sands of Normandy, battling not just the enemy but also the elements and the weight of his mission.
This episode is a testament to the human spirit's capacity to endure and triumph against overwhelming odds.
It's a powerful reminder of the sacrifices made for liberty and the enduring legacy of those who gave their all.
Want to leave a review? Click here, and if we earned a five-star review from you **high five and knuckle bumps**, we appreciate it greatly, thank you so much!
It was D-Day, the 6th of June 1944. The drums of liberty had been quiet across most of Europe for the last four years.
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Welcome to the Theory to Action podcast, where we examine the timeless treasures of wisdom from the great books in less time, to help you take action immediately and ultimately to create and lead a flourishing life. Now here's your host, David Kaiser.
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Let's go right to the book. Let's go right to the book. By 6.45 am the first wave of boats had deposited Company A on the beach and pulled away Lt Ray Nance and 17 other headquarters staff, including the medic, cecil Brendan and Bedford boys John Reynolds and John Clifton. They came in exactly as planned, 19 minutes after the rest of Company A Nance's craft hit bottom. The British boatman standing in a few feet to Nance's right in the steel compartment at the front of the craft, pulled a lever to let the ramp down. The ramp lowered but then stopped. Get it down, shouted Nance. The bowman yanked the lever again and again. Finally the ramp started to fall. Nance gave it a shove Up, and at him, mates cried. The bowman. Nance took two steps down the ramp and jumped into the water. Gave it a shove Up, and at him, mates cried. The bowman Nance took two steps down the ramp and jumped into the water. A wave crashed down, almost submerging him. He began to wade forward, his sodden pack pulling him down, rifle above his head. The next thing he knew he was lying winded on the cold sand.
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Nance looked around. He couldn't see any other men from Company A. Feeling terribly isolated, he struggled up on the beach. Soon he realized what had happened to Company A. Corpses lay strewn across the sands and bumped against each other in the shallows. Suddenly he was not alone.
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Men appeared nearby To the right, one of Nance's runners, to the left, his radio operator, john Clifton, company A's Casanova, crawling His radio still on his back. The radio was useless. It made him a sitting target. He should dump it fast, thought Nance. Keep moving, keep moving, shouted Nance. I'm hit, cried Clifton. Can you move, asked Nance. Clifton didn't answer. Nance ducked and then looked up again. Clifton had disappeared. Nance spotted four other men huddled down behind a steel tank obstacle. Spread out, shouted Nance. The words had barely left his mouth when a mortar round landed, killing three of the men and severely wounding the other.
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Nance couldn't see a single German. He fired a few rounds towards the bluffs, but then another mortar shell exploded nearby. A piece of shrapnel took a chunk out of his rifle just a few inches from his face. The Germans were so accurate with those things, nance recalled they could put one in your back pocket if they spotted you. Tracer files spurted towards Nance, kicking up sand, ricocheting off the stones, stitching the hard beach with bullets. The Germans had spotted him and were zeroing in. The machine gun snarled again. He was definitely the target.
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The fire came from the bunker just to the right of the draw, halfway up the bluffs. Nance positioned his body so he was facing the machine gun head on, providing less of a target. If he'd get hit it would be quick a shot to the head. He looked at his rifle. It was useless. Wet sand had gotten into the workings.
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Nance held his breath as the sound of bullets got louder. Then his body began to shake with terror. Another burst of bullets. He looked to his right. A Company, a rifleman, was up on his feet, sprinting trying to escape the machine gun volleys. Nance recognized the runner it was 22-year-old John Reynolds. Reynolds stopped, knelt down, raised his rifle to return fire. He never got to pull the trigger. Nance saw him fall dead.
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Finally the bullets stopped spitting around the beach towards Nance. Perhaps the Germans had found another runner? There was no retreat for any man on D-Day. He had to push on. Nance crawled forward, aiming for a cliff face 300 yards away. Suddenly his right foot felt like Frank Draper Jr had hit it with a baseball bat. Part of his heel had been shot away. Bullets again stitched the sand, again heading in his direction. They came so close, recalled Nance. Then, suddenly, when I thought there was no more hope, I looked up in the sky. I didn't see anything up there, but I felt something settle over me. I got this warm feeling. I felt as if somehow I was going to live.
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Nance lay as still as he could, hoping the machine gunner would think he was dead. But even corpses were now targets for the Germans above Dahl Green. That machine gunner just wouldn't let me be. He'd send a line of bullets my way, pass on to another target, then come back for more for me again, like playing cat and mouse.
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Nance tried in vain to dig a shallow foxhole in the sand and shingle with his hands. Then he spotted a tidal pool. It looked deep enough for a man to disappear beneath the surface. Nance crawled as fast as he could, slithering into the pool's tepid waters. He filled his lungs and ducked down. Suddenly a bullet pierced the strap on his World War I binocular case. Nance ducked down again and again. Sometime later, when he came up for air, there was a soldier from New York not far from him. The machine gun bullets returned. Nance turned his face to turned his face to head them on. He told the New Yorker to do the same. The bullets moved away. Nance and the New Yorker scrambled across the last yards towards the cliff. At last they felt shingle beneath them. Nance collapsed, blood pouring from his foot, but at least he was safe. He looked out to sea.
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I recognized two dead officers. They were face up a lot lying in the water. A lot of men were caught by the tide. Had we been on dry land a lot of men would have made it. The tide had crept up behind Nance, drown and Company. A men who no longer had the strength to crawl. Among them, it is thought, was Raymond Hoback.
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Nance had trained them, he had tried to be good to them. He had read their last love letters and as he lay now on the blood stained pebbles below Verville-sur-Mer, he still felt responsible for them. Every last one. I was their officer. It was my duty. They were the finest soldiers I ever saw, and that was a quote from an excellent book titled the Bedford Boys by Alex Kershaw. The subtitle is One Town's Ultimate D-Day Sacrifice. The subtitle is One Town's Ultimate D-Day Sacrifice. And, of course, today is D-Day, the 6th of June 2024.
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So many years after those boys from Bedford, virginia, stormed up the beaches and the cliffs on the coast of Normandy, france. 19 boys from Bedford Virginia, with a population of just 3,000 in 1944, died in the first bloody, harrowing minutes of the D-Day landings. They were the first Americans to hit the beaches of Normandy as they were part of Company A of the 116th Regiment of the 29th Infantry Division. Later in the campaign, three more boys from this small Virginia town died of gunshot wounds 22 total sons of Bedford lost. Alex Kershaw does a great job capturing their story. It's one of the most heartbreaking stories you can read about World War II. He does a great job of introducing the men to you, their backgrounds, their likes and dislikes, and you grow fond for these men as they grew up in small-town America during the Great Depression. Let's go back to the book.
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The next morning, july 17, 1944, just after 8 am, 21-year-old Elizabeth Taze was dropped off near Green's Drugstore on the corner of North Bridge and Main Streets. She entered the store past the soda fountain and a couple of teenage soda jerk workers there, then the prescription counter, and finally walked through booths to her small Western Union office at the rear of the store, a polished wooden booth behind the cosmetic counter. Tess had worked at Green since 1942 after graduating Bedford High School. At several booths customers chatted and sipped freshly brewed coffee. Many Bedford men gathered there every morning and recalled tastes. Businessmen came by and it was as if we were all a big family Lawyers, doctors, the town's undertaker, harry Carter, several regulars browsed the morning papers and discussed the news Coca-Cola had produced its billionth gallon of Coca-Cola syrup. Over 100 children had died in a fire in Connecticut started by inept fire eaters at a circus. In France, the 29th Division was fighting desperately in the outskirts of St Louis after a month of deadly stalemate. It was now 8.30 am in Bedford.
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Elizabeth Tace switched on the teletype machine for receiving telegrams and then pressed a button that sounded a bell 25 miles away in the main Western Union office from Central Virginia in Roanoke. All telegrams came to Bedford from this office. She then typed Good morning, go ahead, bedford. Words emerged on a strip of paper chattering out from the printer Good morning, go ahead, roanoke. We have casualties. Tase's heart sank as she read the first line of copy. The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret. Tace had seen those words before. By July 1944, telegrams announcing the death of a local boy arrived on average once a week. She waited for the message to end, expecting the machine to fall silent. But it did not. Line after line of the copy clicked out of the printer Within a few minutes. As Tace watched in a trance-like state, it was clear that something terrible had happened to Company A. I just sat and watched them and wondered how many more it could be. The telegrams kept coming.
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Tace fed the ticker tape into a small barrel of water where the adhesive on the back of the tape was moistened. Using a large thimble she then ran the tape onto pieces of Western Union stationary, snapping the tape every couple of inches to form a new line. The job required intense concentration and neatness. Elizabeth took pride in her work. Naturally I was in shock, recalled Taze. I was so afraid the news would be leaked before the addressees on the telegram were notified. I didn't want someone phoning up a relative, a mother say, and telling them before they had gotten the telegram. That would have just been terrible.
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For a long time the teletype machine clattered, spitting out telegram after telegram. When it finally stopped, tace thought the messages of condolences were over. But a few minutes later another stuttered out. I don't remember who came first or when she recalled, but I do remember there was a lot of Johns John Shank, john Wilkes, john Dean, john's John Shank, john Wilkes, john Dean. Just heartbreaking, I will say.
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When you listen to the audiobook the words just keep being read. But it's hard to listen to those words without breaking down. You put yourself in their shoes and there were so many times that I had to stop the audio book. And here I am 80 years after the fact and I don't know any of these men, but your heart breaks For people who you don't even know Going through such a tragedy. And World War II just devastated this small town, devastated small towns all across the country, but it really hit Bedford, virginia. Here's our last quote.
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A few days later, the following words appeared in the Bedford Bulletin Memororum. Do not say my sons are dead. They only sleepest. They loved each other, stayed together and, with their comrades, crossed together to that great beyond. So weep, not mothers. Your sons are happy and free, mrs John S Hoback. But the Hobacks did weep. Things were never the same.
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That summer Lucille was barred from going to Bedford County Lake or doing anything that might have been fun. Her mother spent hours alone and rarely left the house Every evening felt like a wake. My sister and I were always trying to make everybody feel better. There was to be no laughing, no chatting. I was very close to my mother, so anything that hurt her hurt me and I felt helpless. Later that summer Lucille asked if she could go to an amusement park in Roanoke. Her parents said no. She thought she understood why. They were the only ones who lost two sons on D-Day.
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All across Bedford County, joy died that summer. Life seems so useless without you, darling, wrote Betty Wilkes in a memorial notice published with dozens of others from bereaved relatives and widows in the Bedford Bulletin. There is only hope. There's only one hope left now to meet you up there when there is no night but eternal rest and peace. Rest and peace.
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Families grieved behind closed doors, sharing their pain with relatives and God. People don't feel like going out and doing things. For a while recalled Marie Powers, a junior at Bedford High School who loved nothing more than jitterbugging in her saddle shoes, to Glenn Miller tunes at the dinner club dances. Most all the activities were discontinued. It was just a sad time. It was terrible, but people loved one another and people supported each other.
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By the time Powers returned to high school that fall the War Department had confirmed that in all 19 men from Bedford had been killed on Omaha Beach on D-Day. Three more Bedford boys had died later in the invasion. In cities close to Bedford where bloodlines also went back several generations. The slaughter had also taken a heavy toll 16 of Bob's sales buddies and Company B from Lynchburg had died on D-Day. 18 of Bob's slaughters buddies and Company D would never go home to Roanoke.
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But no community in the state or in America, or indeed in any allied nation, had lost as many sons as Bedford. In a matter of minutes a couple of German machine gunners had broken the town's heart. Indeed, in a matter of minutes a couple of German machine gunners had broken the town's heart. So in today's Liberty Minute, on this 80th anniversary of D-Day, the 6th of June, remember and pray. Remember and pray for this small town of Bedford, virginia, who had lost everything that summer in 1944. Remember and pray for all those that never came home from the battles of World War II. Remember and pray for our country that what they fought for and died for, those ideals of liberty and justice for all and peace in our world, that those ideals will never be forgotten. God bless Bedford, virginia, and God bless the United States of America. Keep fighting the good fight ¶¶.
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Thank you for joining us. We hope you enjoyed this Theory to Action podcast. Be sure to check out our show page at team mojo academycom, where we have everything we discussed in this podcast, as well as other great resources. Until next time, keep getting your mojo on.