From the summer of 1970 through the summer of 1971, I served as the aide de camp for the Assistant Division Commander (Maneuver) of the 3rd Infantry Division. My boss’ job put us in constant contact with various units of the German military, one of which was the 1st German Airborne Brigade. My boss wore Belgian parachute wings so I paid attention to the jump wings of the other European countries. On one occasion I found myself in brief conversation with my boss’ counterpart, the commanding general of the German airborne unit. When I admired his jump wings, I was immediately invited to jump with his brigade during an upcoming training exercise in the Black Forest.
I was instructed to report at dawn to a checkpoint in the woods in the middle of nowhere in southern Germany. I didn’t speak German, but I found the first checkpoint and kept getting waived from one checkpoint to another. I finally got to a clearing with a runway and several French Nord Atlases all buttoned up and idling, ready to take off.
Even though I had on a class A uniform, it was clear through signals that they were waiting for me, and I was about to jump in a matter of minutes.
I parked my VW, stripped and put on fatigues and boots as fast as I’d ever done it in my life.
The door to one of the aircraft opened and I got on. When I looked around inside the dark aircraft, all I could see was a bunch of guys who looked like 6’5” Dolph Lundgren.
I figured out that particular look must have been a unit requirement! Only one guy spoke English, a red-headed Command Sergeant Major named Fritz Janke. He was barking orders in clipped German, but when he opened his mouth to speak to me, he spoke English like a backwoods chicken farmer from Alabama. I spent the next four days camping with the Germans and made five jumps with them. These guys were the hardest-drinking bunch I’d ever seen in my life. I had previously thought that distinction belonged to my cadet company, E-3. Each night we had a roast pig which we cut off pieces and ate with bread. Both during and after dinner, there were endless rounds of toasts, each one ending with German for “Luck going up.” I was more interested in “Luck coming down,” but that wasn’t the toast. Each toast included one shot of schnapps and a glass of pilsner. At the conclusion of the toasts, there were guys who were sufficiently unconscious that open heart surgery could have been performed on them and they wouldn’t have known it was happening! In spite of their condition, they were ready to jump at 5 AM!
It turned out that Fritz had been a 17-year-old private in the Waffen SS in WWII and had been captured at Bastogne. After he was captured, he told me that all members of the SS were separated and shipped back to Alabama as POWs. According to him, he escaped 25 times but there was no place for him to go. He said that he spent the remainder of the war picking cotton and collecting eggs in southern Alabama and that was how he acquired his accent. Being raised as a Florida Gator in SEC country, I immediately said, “Sergeant Major, that was your punishment. All those Alabama chicken farmers were stuck just like you and couldn’t get out, either. If they’d been able to, they’d all have been in Florida!” He didn’t get the joke, and I never had time to explain it.
Over the five days I was there, I became friends with a German 1st Lieutenant named Martin Roessler. On the last day, he needed one more jump to earn a bronze wreath around his wings, and I needed one more to qualify. Unfortunately, on the last day a 20-knot wind blew up and the jump was cancelled. An American general officer had showed up in his helicopter, and I pleaded with his aide to let us both jump from his aircraft. We only needed one jump, and if it went badly, we’d have time to recover in the hospital. Fortunately, we were appealing to a general who would have done the same thing himself, so Fritz took us up for our last jump out of a Huey. The last jump for both Martin and me was like jumping from the back of a deuce and a half – going 25 mph through an open field.
The field was soft, we both survived, and it made for good stories being told to this day.
Very interesting story, Cary. It must’ve been quite an assignment as a general officer’s aid, especially in Europe at that time. Their procedure for toasting sounds quite interesting. Can’t say that I’ve ever seen one quite like that.
Thanks Denis. It was a good thing that I didn’t participate heavily in the toasts that night or I wouldn’t remember a thing! I’m still amazed at the volume of alcohol consumed in the middle of a training exercise with no obvious negative consequences. That would never have happened in one of our units! Those guys could hold some booze. Cary
Wow! GREAT story and accomplishment, Cary!
Thank you!
Thanks Jim. I was just fortunate to be in the right place at the right time. Cary
Cary,
I’m so jealous. I was stuck in Bamberg, mech infantry platoon with the 4th Armored Div (along with George Barstis, JT Sanders, Darby Boyle, and others). We were never invited to such fun events.
We did, however, find other ways to have fun. One very foggy day out in the woods (maybe Graf), we couldn’t see far enough to do our planned formation training and nobody could really see us. So we laid out an oval race course and had races in our M113’s. We would slide through the corners like Barney Oldfield on the dirt track. I kept thinking, if we throw a track I’m way up shit creek. But we didn’t. Just had a fun morning playing in the mud.
Thanks for your story.
Craig,
We should get together and swap stories. I don’t know if you know this or not (Ha!) but there’s nothing on the planet that’s dirtier than an armor unit in Graf in the winter. Of the year I was an aide I’ll bet I spent 300 days of it in the field in Graf, Hohenfels and Wildflecken. One day we went to a fun event sponsored by one of the 3rd ID armor brigades. It involved two privates who had taken it upon themselves to drive a tank retriever over a water retention dike. The dike collapsed and the retriever slid sideways into the pond up to its turret. I can’t quite recall why my boss felt compelled to insert us into this situation but he did. I think it had something to do with him being the ADCM. The result was that I returned to Graf covered from head to toe in mud. I can’t recall ever being dirtier in ranger school but at least I didn’t apply any grease paint that afternoon. When I got back to Graf a bunch of armor lieutenants wanted a recap so we sat around in the o-club laughing about a matter that wasn’t so funny on site. That’s an understatement. The Germans were really angry about the dike. The retriever got sucked into the muck and it took a chinook to relieve the suction so the whole thing could be pulled out. The only good thing to be said was that nobody died. Frankly, I can’t recall ever seeing a bigger mess in my life. I remember being thankful for being in the infantry.
Back to the o-club. As about eight lieutenants were sitting there laughing, covered from head to toe in mud and having created quite a “foot print” where we sat, the S-1 from a battalion outside the 3rd ID walks up and tries to jack us up for being dirty in the o-club. Really. This was Graf in the winter. So, after he delivers his little speech to slightly intoxicated fellow lieutenants, everyone looks at each other in silence. Then one guys speaks up and says, “Lieutenant, you’re making a serious mistake here. If you want to get any satisfaction at all you need to go find someone who cares and tell them. You’re wasting your time here. Get out of here and have a nice day.”
Every time I saw one of those guys we would laugh and the whole thing makes me chuckle to this day.
Cary
Thanks, Carey, great story! Fritz sounds like the real deal …
Thanks Eric. I look forward to seeing you again soon. Cary
Great Story, thanks.
Thanks, Cary, that was a great story. I would have given my eye teeth to be able to have a story like that to tell. Jumping was probably my most favorite thing to do in the Army.
Denis, Fortunately I didn’t participate heavily in the toasts or I wouldn’t remember a thing about it! I’m sure most of those guys are now dead from liver problems!🤨 Cary
Thanks Ray. I love telling stories and I think we all have a bunch. Maybe some ranger stories next time. I love the work you’ve done and your posts on the forum. God bless! Cary
Great story! Keep ’em coming.
Thanks Pete. I think we cause each other to remember these things. Cary
Cary: Great story that brought back some memories of my own when I was serving as S3 of the 1509ABCT in Vicenza in 1976. I…along with about 30 other US paratroopers… participated in an Airborne exchange with our German counterpart unit from the ACE Mobile Force (Land). Great experience. Had some difficulty adjusting to their exiting procedures though. Took me some time to get used to diving head first out the back of the helicopter!! Those guys were CRAZY!!
Thanks Tom. I hope to see you soon. Cary
Great stuff Cary.
Germans are still among the best soldiers in the world….always have been, imho.
Fred
Cary, Well done!
Amen, Mike. I found them to be a great bunch, particularly the airborne guys. I hope to see you soon. Cary