 From Korea to Germany, from Alaska to Puerto Rico. All over the world, the United States Army is on the alert to defend our country, you, the American people, against aggression. This is The Big Picture, an official television report to the nation from the United States Army. Now to show you part of The Big Picture, here is Sergeant James Mansfield. Today, we have another story of a famous unit, the 82nd Airborne Division, sometimes known as the All-American Division. It is the unit that slugged its way up the Italian peninsula, dropped into Normandy on D-Day and rushed into the breach during the Battle of the Bulge. It is a unit famous for its tough fighting men, and it is appropriate that we should honor it on this program of The Big Picture, dedicated to those who wear the blue badge, the combat infantrymen. Later in the program, Colonel Quinn will interview a regimental commander of the 82nd Airborne Division. We take you now to the office of Colonel William W. Quinn. How you do, ladies and gentlemen. If you recall, last week we discussed with you the family of medals for heroism. We particularly stressed the Congressional Medal of Honor. We told you that, statistic-wise, up till June in Korea, out of 71 medals of honor given, the man with the rifle earned 62. While this week, change of pace, we're going to talk about another type of infantryman, the paratrooper. We'll have an interview later on with a man who was a paratrooper. And so at this time, the blue badge proudly presents the 82nd Airborne Division. Beautiful sight, isn't it? You've got to look to the skies to see something pretty in war. Isn't much of it in ground fighting. Of course, this scene wouldn't be so pretty with flak in the skies tearing up planes, chewing up parachutes and troopers. Only this is a practice jump. New kids in the post-war 82nd Airborne, fancy new planes and equipment. Those have changed, for the better, I guess. But one thing hasn't. One thing they can't improve. That's a fighting heart, the will to win. These kids have to have it. So did we when we joined the outfit in 1942. They called it the All-American Division, because it came from all the states and made troopers of all kinds of guys. Or maybe it was All-American because we were winners all the time. It was a champion outfit, all right. Back in World War I, the 82nd Infantry Division had shown its stuff when it launched an attack to relieve the famous lost battalion and produce the greatest hero of that war, Sergeant Alvin York. And a great hero of World War II, General Jonathan Wainwright, who was a major then. So these rookies have a fighting tradition to follow. Next you give them top-flight generals, Omar Bradley, who took over in March 1942 and taught us how to fight on the ground. Matt Ridgway, who came after him in June and showed us how to fight from the air. Yeah, they gave us the best in leader. And we had a rough time keeping up with them. They trained us. Brother, how they trained us was run and jump and climb and crawl, calisthenics, rifle range, shoot school, glider loading, practice jumps, crash landing. They took it for weeks and months. Nothing is continuous, the brass said. Continuous. It lasted from Fort Benning to North Africa, from Louisiana to the Sahara. We were trained fine, hard, mean and mad. When they told us we were the best fighting outfit in the world, we believed it. All we had to do was to prove it. Well, we did, at Sicily in July 1943. The boys who keep the records will tell you now that the Sicily jump was a warm-up. It wasn't like the big ones that came later. In a way, that's true, but don't tell it to the guys in the chute. To them, the Gila jump was a car-guide rough house. As soon as you get out of that pretty silk parachute, you fight like the doe foot you are. You slug it out with your gun and your feet. You find it still a walking move, especially when you do 150 miles in six days. Not strolling down a country lane, either, but pushing back an enemy who was awfully unhappy about giving up even a foot of ground. One lousy little foot was a rough initiation, but we'd proved airborne attacks would work. What's more, we'd saved the Allied beach hat, so they threw us in to save another. We were trying to bust up our bridgehead at Salerno in September 1943. We dropped in to argue with it. Artillery fire poured in on us like beer from a bucket. They cut us off, but not for long. We plugged the cracks in our line and started to beat our way toward Naples. We led the way in on October 1st. They told us that officially we occupied Naples for six weeks. That's funny. Now during those six weeks of occupation, we sure did a lot of fighting. We crossed the Volterno River and took Isernia, Cali, Machia, Poronelli, Cerro, Roqueta, Venafro, one Italian town after another, like a Danny quay saw. There were mountains, and there was mud, usually both. Of all the propaganda I ever heard, the line that got me sore was the one about Bella Italia, beautiful Italy. Instead of planes, we had mules, and glad to have them, too. The hills made moving supplies tough, and moving the wounded downright murderous. No one had it any tougher than the mennings. We spearheaded the 5th Army's advance till it joined the British 8th at Mount Samucro. Then the division was shipped back to the British Isles. Except for one combat team that was sent to a famous beach resort in January of 1944. It was a famous beach resort, all right? Ands you. Only you had no privacy. That beachhead was so small, Jerry could see everything we were doing, and drop a shell anywhere he wanted. See what I mean? It wasn't our style to sit still. We set out raiding parties to annoy the crowds, but mostly it was trench warfare, keeping Jerry from pushing us off the beach. It was kind of monotonous. Never too monotonous. The guys from Anzio caught up with the rest of the outfit at Leicester. Those were pleasant days, with a chance to relax a little, even though we were getting ready for a new mission. Lots of replacements came in. We gave them so much jump training, they yelled Geronimo when they stepped off the sidewalk. The glider boys kept hustling in and out of their big box carts like well-trained Subway Sardines. A battalion against a regimen, dough feet against armor. We won, of course, and Nazi drive was played out. It was our turn. In January 1945, we cracked a secret line, just to start the new year right. Soon somebody remembered we were due for a rest. In April, we came back to the Cologne area and smashed across the Rhine at Hipdorf in a raid that won a presidential citation. The Allied armies were tearing across Germany like Sunday drivers. When we crossed the Elbe at Blecky, we could see the finish line at last. But on May 3rd, at Ludwig's Lust, we won the super jackpot in Heines. 145,000 live ones of the German 21st Army handed to us wrapped in cellophane by their commanding officer, General von Tippelskirch. No wonder our adding machines broke down. Imagine a division of 15,000 troopers taking in an army, a whole army that had everything, from armor to everything. They really scraped both ends of the barrel to keep the war going, but there was no fight left in these Joes. The Nazi bully had hollered uncle. Well, the war was over. From fighting, we switched to parade. General Eisenhower chose us as the American Honor Guard for Berlin. Now we were a snappy-looking bunch, but we never marched better than we did that day in January 1946 in New York City. When General Jim gave us... We were a proud and happy bunch, and with reason. Seven campaigns, seven river crossings, four combat jumps, and two glider landings. The folks were proud of us for all that, and proud of us for a bigger reason. The voices that chaired us from the sidewalks of New York were voices that came from all over the country, city voices, country voices, southern voices, western voices, New England voices, American voices. They knew our boys had come from every state, every walk of life, every religion. They knew we had proved to them and to the world that no matter what small differences there were between us, we would march together when we were threatened, that there would always be an all-American division to fight for the American way of life. And with us today, Colonel Robert Weinecke of the 82nd Airborne Division, an all-probability you saw him in some of the scenes you've just witnessed. Bob, I'm mighty glad that you could come with us today, and incidentally, where's your hometown? I come from Glencoe, Illinois. That's just outside of Chicago. Well, was I correct in my statement that you were with the 82nd Airborne? I sure was. I was with them from the first time they were organized until they praded up the Fifth Avenue of New York in 1946. Well, what jobs did you have during all that time? Well, I was the division supply officer. I was the division operations officer, and later the chief of staff. And also, I've been one of the battalion and regimental commanders. Well, you covered the waterfront with the 82nd, didn't you? I sure enjoyed it. Bob, I'm sure you understand the purpose of our program. We're attempting to gain recognition for that man with a rifle. But in that connection, I'd like to ask you, what is the basic difference between the paratrooper and the conventional infantryman in their regular infantry division? There's none. They're exactly the same do-boy. They have the same equipment, they've got the same rifle, and they're all operating on the same basis except the parachutist jumps out of an airplane on occasions. Well, what type of specialized training do they get? The specialized training consists of three weeks down at Benning where they learn the techniques of getting out of an airplane with a parachute on their back and how to land safely, which is a good trick, and also, of course, loading and lashing their equipment in an airplane. Well, speaking of training and jumping, does a paratrooper in battle always jump? No, not all the time. They go in anyway, just so they get there. Well, how are you delivered in combat, Bob? I see you were delivered by your star on your badge. Well, I went into Sicily and Italy and Navy assault ship, brought into Normandy in a glider, into Holland by parachute, and into the Battle of the Bulge by a truck. So we use anyway just so we get there. I see. Well, I understand now that I think, too, that a lot of people really believe that paratroopers always do jump, and that, oddly enough, they don't go in like conventional infantry. I think that's a good point. Now let me ask you another question, Bob, about the basic equipment in the Airborne Division that used by the paratrooper and that used by the ordinary cowboy. Well, the difference between an infantry division and an airborne division is very, very slight. To the uninitiated, I don't believe they could see any difference. We have a few more of these recall-less wipe rifles because they're light and get in easy, and we use them as a substitute for artillery until it comes in at a little later hour. Well, in that connection, don't you have some pretty difficult problems in resupply once that you have jumped in or otherwise carried in? No, not particularly, because you see the loading and planning for this is just as if you're going to use a truck, but we use an aeroplane instead. Well, how about ammunition and food and things like that? They come in by parachute in big containers. We now have a system where you can drop about 2,200 pounds of the crack. All right. Well, let me ask you one more, Bob. Since the initial concept of airborne operations where men are dropped, has there been much change in the basic organization? No, there's been no change in the concept of vertical envelopment, but there has been a change in the technique of getting into the airhead. For example, instead of a glider, now we use the assault transport, which gets in and then flies back out. Also, we have what they call the heavy drop technique, which is ability with these big parachutes to drop trucks and jeeps and howitzers and things like that. So fundamentally, that's the only change at the present time. Well, Bob, one more last question. How about combat medics and engineers? Do they support you in the... Oh, sure. The combat medic, he's right in there. He jumps out of the same plane as the infantryman, and the engineers might be in a little different cereal, but they're right there to help us with the mines and take care of any road work or whatever is supposed to be done. Well, thanks a lot, Bob. It was a nice having you today. Ladies and gentlemen, we've just heard Colonel Robert Winicky, formerly of the 82nd Airborne Division. I'm sure that you all enjoyed the interview with him. Now, next week, we have a very interesting story of the United States Third Army. We'll show you Patton's Lunge through Europe. And not only that, but we'll have another interesting interview with a tanker, an individual who can tell us about the tank infantry team. So until next week, this is Colonel Quinn speaking for the combat infantryman who asks you to look twice at the man who wears a blue badge. It's the mark of a man. The Big Picture is a weekly television report to the nation on the activities of the Army at home and overseas, produced by the Signal Corps Pictorial Center, presented by the US Army in cooperation with this station. You can be an important part of the Big Picture. You can proudly serve with the best equipped, the best trained, the best fighting team in the world today, the United States Army. We had a feeling about our next operation. It had the word B-I-G big plastered all over it. Sicily and Salerno had been man-sized fights all right, but they'd been just preliminary bout. This one coming up was the main event. When we heard the field orders, we knew we'd guessed right. We were going into France, into Normandy, before D-Day. On the night of June 5th, us and our kid cousin, the 101st, and the British 6th Airborne, nothing before or after could be more important than this. For the first time, it hit us hard. We were making history. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He make us major lie down in green pastures. Everything moved swiftly and quietly that night. Especially our thoughts. Part of Hitler's West Wall. Our mission was to keep the Germans from knocking out our troops who were coming in on Utah Beach. It was a big order to think about. But there wasn't much time for thinking when we hit the ground. The jump had scattered our men, and we're outnumbered four to one. Even after our glidermen joined us, it was a tight spot. But we'd asked for it. That's why we were true. We started off by grabbing samaric lease, key point in the German defenses, and the first town in France to be liberated. It was apple blossom time in Norman, but the only posies Jerry was throwing was mortar and machine gun fire. We had to bleed for every orchard, every field, every hedgerow. For 33 days, we fought without relief and without reinforcement. We held the crowds off of the beaches and chopped up two of his divisions. We got chopped up some ourselves. Of the 13,000 men of the 82nd who went into Normandy, only 5,000 were left on their feet when they evacuated us July 14. But the beachhead was secure. Four divisions were ashore, and more were coming. Many more. We had done our job. How well we had done it was told by the top man himself. It is to the airborne forces that immeasurable credit for the subsequent success of the Western operation belonged. Back in England, we went into the reserve and relaxed. If you call parade and relaxed, meanwhile, the American and British troops were pouring out of our bridgeheads like water from a broken main. By the second week of September, they had flooded across all of France, Belgium, and Luxembourg. And we're seeping under Germany's front door on the secret line, washing up Jerry by the hundreds of thousands. We were beginning to wonder whether those ground odds were going to roll right over Berlin before we had a chance to jump in. But we stopped worrying when General Jim Gavin, who followed General Ridgway as boss of the outfit, began to bear down on training. We were getting into the act once more. Only it wasn't Berlin, not yet. The 82nd, the 101st, and the British 1st Airborne were going to drop into Holland. The idea was to use it as a jump off position for a quick drive to Berlin. We knew how important it was from the way they fixed us up with plenty of everything. Took off September 17th. Colossal would really be the word for it. Air Force had blasted Jerry ACAC positions for weeks. The weather was with us. Our planets were right on course. The drops went fine. The Dutch pitched in and helped where they could, even though they suffered too. There was no mistaking that they were glad to see it. The first few days were easy, easier than anything we had tried. Grosspink, grout, moat were hours for the taking. The Air Corps boys kept us fixed up on supply pretty well. And the British Guards Armor Division came rolling along to back us up with a heavy stuff. We were getting along fine, though we reached Nijmegen and the big bridge across the lower Rhine. Jerry figured that bridge was pretty important. So he dug in and fought the way Jerry can when he gets his back up, as we fought to clear the bridge of snipers and secure the other side. It was a dog eat dog fight that took the best we had in blood and guts. But on the fourth day, British armor rolled across the bridge. The crowds tried hard to get it back. They must have been nuts. No one was taking that bridge away from us. In December, they sent those of us who were left back to France for a rest and trained the rookies. It looked like a good deal until this guy decided to get into the act for a change von Rundstedt was doing the attacking, not only attacking, but putting everything he had into it. He was moving in on first army headquarters and threatening to cut off four American divisions. So off we went, without winter equipment, overshoes, or shoe packs. In less than 24 hours, the 82nd was moving into position 150 miles away on the northern shoulder of the bulge. Yep, pretty pictures of snow made. Christmas card stuff. There wasn't much goodwill lying around. It was dirty, bloody, gut-tearing fighting. Cold was worse than the bullets. Sometimes we kept moving ahead because we'd freeze if we stood still. Every medic was a hero in that white hell. There were plenty of heroes, fancy ones. Did you ever hear of Chenoux, where a battalion of our boys ran into a regiment of the crack burst SS Panzer Division? They had everything, artillery, tanks, self-propelled guns, halftracks, and black wagons. We, ah, we had rifles, bazookas, grenades, and guts. So we attacked.