D
estined to be a plumber because his
grandfather and father had been,
Philadelphia native Norman Waldman
was thrown a curve ball when drafted in 1943
at the age of 18. He went to Georgia for basic
training as a machine gunner, and signed
up for the airborne division mainly because
it was double pay. After making it through
the rigorous training, he was assigned to
the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment and
trained in Alliance, Nebraska.
Norman and his wife, Marie, have been
married 67 years.
The new regiment was sent to the resort
town of Port Rush, Ireland, where they
bunked in the homes of generous villagers for
six months. Their next stop was Nottingham,
England, where they stayed in tents in the
Robin Hood-famed Sherwood Forest. He
admits his first nine months of the service
were pretty easy, but in the spring of 1944, the
Allies were getting ready for the invasion of
France and the whole regiment could feel that
something big was about to happen.
And, it certainly did. On the night they
received their orders, his full regiment was
told to get in full gear and ammo and they
boarded a plane to Normandy. In the early
dawn of June 6, 1944, Norman Waldman
took his first and only official combat jump.
With the clouds and smoke from anti-aircraft
fire, his plane missed its drop target and
the unit was scattered throughout the area.
Waldman was able to see that other soldiers
who jumped before him were heading into
fiery explosions below, so he gave a little tug
to his straps and directed himself toward a
hedgerow. In his first and most important
streak of luck, Waldman hit a patch of
brambles, which, while prickly, were not
laden with mines.
Waldman was able to stay alive and defend
himself during intense direct combat for
the next few days and helped his unit and
comrades hold two bridges on the Douve
River before being captured on June 9, 1944.
About half the regiment didn’t make it, many
perishing in minutes, still more throughout
the next two days.
The killing of several German soldiers in
the battle stayed with him for a long time.
“They were the same as me,” he said, “young
and scared, and just trying to stay alive.”
During combat, he was hit by shrapnel
and taken to the German field hospital after
being captured. “I was never abused,” noted
Waldman. Maybe it was luck again, or just an
unknowingly wise decision to teach himself
German from a book while in training, as
Waldman was sent to Dresden and served
as a POW interpreter where he remained
through the bombing of Dres