History That Doesn't Suck - 212: The European Theater, 1943

Episode Date: September 21, 2026

"Wing Ding, you're either crazy as hell or you've got balls."This is the story of the European Theater in 1943.As Allied bombers learn the brutal cost of daylight precision raids over Ploesti and Schweinfurt, Allied armies fight their way onto the Italian mainland at Salerno, and the citizens of Naples rise to liberate themselves. Meanwhile, the U-boat is finally beaten back in the Atlantic, American Lend-Lease reaches a bleeding Soviet Union, and the tide turns in the East. And in occupied France, a fractured Resistance begins to cohere—thanks to the sacrifice of a hero named Jean Moulin—as Charles de Gaulle claims his place at the head of a nation not yet free.We'll meet a tail gunner who flew into hell without his parachute, a colonel who took his burning bomber over the target rather than break his word, a thirteen-year-old who took on a German tank, and an American spy hiding behind a wooden leg and a wheel of cheese. Each is doing their part as the whole Allied world bends toward one looming date on the horizon.Call it the pre-pre-D-Day episode. This is the European Theater, 1943.Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com andgo deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendationsjoin discussions in our Facebook communityget news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette come see a live showget HTDS merchor become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks.HTDS is part of Audacy media network.Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Contact Audacyinc.com

It's early in the morning, October 14, 1943. We're in Netashul, England, where Eugene T. Carson, or Wing Dean, as he's known, is seated in the mess hall with fellow servicemen of U.S. Army 8th Air Force's 388th bombardment group, choking down what he calls a usual breakfast of square eggs, spam, and SOS. That last item is creamed-chipped beef on toast. what the whole U.S. military calls SOS, short for shit on a shingle. A fair note of disapproval for a discerning small-town Pennsylvania baker, even if that life is now an ocean and thousands of miles away.

Here in England, he's a tailgunner and staff sergeant, hoping this morning's, quote-unquote, crummy weather gets today's yet-to-be-announced attack pushed off. Suddenly, the curtain dividing the mess from the briefing room is pulled back. so much for a silver lining for today's clouds. And the news gets worse. Today's target is Schweinfurt, Germany. The room explodes with exclamations of shock and trepidation.

Oh, Jesus. No, not again. Holy mother of God, this is my last mission. Yes, Schweinfort, located in the heart of Nazi territory in Bavaria. The town is home to factories producing the ball bearings so essential. to German aircraft. When these daring airmen struck the city back in August, they devastated Nazi ball-bearing production, which fell from 140 tons per month to 50.

But it came at the steep cost of 20% of all participants. 370 airmen. Friends to many in this room did not make it back. With losses like that, statistically, an assignment to the 8th Air Force is a death sentence. And now, these airmen Many survivors of August's raid are being asked to go back, to again fly their bombers, largely without escorts, right over Germany. It feels like a death sentence.

Yet, the briefing officer doesn't miss a beat. His voice bellows over the room's laments. This is a very important mission. Germany's ball-bearing works must be destroyed. It's later that same October 14th morning. Eugene Wing Ding Carson's V-17, nicknamed Tiger Girl, is soaring over France in a formation of 16 flying fortresses. As they fly, Wing Ding is at the aircraft's tail turret, or a stinger, checking gear and test firing his guns. Something feels off, and then it hits him. His parachute is missing.

Eugene sits at his gun in terrified silence. He knows that if he informs the pilot, Otis Ingebridson, aka Dingle, he'll turn this flying fortress around. But between one B-17's take-off-turned crash landing, ironically, or wholly appropriately, a bird nicknamed Hard Luck, and other mechanical failures, their group is already down six bombers. No, Eugene won't be the cause of yet one more American plane not flying today. one fewer to drop bombs and fend off the Luftwaffe. He sits in panic. This is a death sentence. He prays.

He hears a female voice say, Trust me. What? That's insane. He checks his mask. Is he sure he's getting oxygen? Yes, he is. Okay, then.

With little other thought besides, Oh, Jesus. He accepts his fate and prepares to engage the enemy. Crossing from Belgium into German air, Eugene watches as their fighter escorts, now at the limit of their range, peel off. And only minutes later, with his group of B-17 still 200 miles from Schweinfurt,

the dreaded Nazi Air Force, the Luftwaffe, arrives. Across hundreds of miles of sky, some 500 aircraft, 229 American bombers and more than 300 German planes. Exchange machine gun fire. Worse are the JU 88s. These powerful twin-engine fighters launch 21-centmeter rockets from 1,000 yards out. Rockets that don't just down bombers, but incinerate them in the air.

Black funnels fill the sky as wrecked planes fall. As airmen's parachutes open, taking some to safety, but in other cases, bursting into flames, leaving a young airman to fall to his death. To quote Eugene's later recollection, the scene was one of carnage beyond imagination. It was strangely not frightened. The intensity of the action left no time for a longer. However, despite my calmness, I was satisfied. The end was near.

Incredibly, Eugene's entire formation, all 16 flying fortresses reaches Shrinefort. Here, the fear isn't the Luftwaffe, but the anti-aircraft artillery. It's a deadly exchange. The B-17s dropped 1,122 high-exposive bombs, while Schweinfurt's guns, answer with shells, set to explode as shrapnel sprain, side-obscuring black clouds at the formation's altitude. A shell strikes the B-17 just next to Tiger Girl.

Eugene watches in horror as it goes into a spin for a few seconds, then it explodes into a thousand pieces. Not a single man had a chance to parachute out. With the bombs dropped, the bombers turn around to again face the same hundreds of miles whooped off a gauntlet between them and relatively safe air. As they fly, Eugene sits in concentrated silence, letting his 50-tale machine gun rip.

As he'll later recall, I had nothing to say. My tailguns were doing my talking in short, nasty bursts. Then, suddenly, the attack ends. The sounds of battle fade, leaving only the roar of Tiger Girl's four engines. Eugene leans forward, rests his head against the window, as he physically shakes and sobs, barely catching his breath enough to mutter. Thank you God.

It's now 6.30 p.m. Tiger Girl has just landed safe and sound back at their base in England. As they clamber out, ground crew chief Paul Ireland, Hollers for all to hear. Wing Ding forgot his parachute. The pilot, Dingle, turns to Eugene and asks if he knew. Eugene answers. Yes, sir.

In a mix of dismay and respect, Dingle replies. Now I know why they call you Wing Ding. The cruise engineer, Chuck Allred, chimes in two. Wing Ding, you're either crazy as hell, or you've got balls. Welcome to history that doesn't suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. This second Schweinfurt bombing raid cut Germany's ballbearing production by 40%. Unfortunately, it cost 77B-17s, 60 lost, 17 no longer airworthy, and over 600 American casualties.

Meanwhile, Germany's ball-bearing production quickly recovers. Hence, the date of this bombing, October 14, 1943, will be known as Black Thursday. Yikes. Maybe these daytime air raids without escorts aren't worth the risk. Well, we'll get to that. Today, we leave the Pacific and return to the other side of the world to catch up on the European theater of 1943. Well, most of the year, we're putting allied boots on the boot of Italy.

We'll learn more about these bombing raids in Europe, why they aren't escorted, and why Americans believe the precision of their northern bombing sites makes daylight raids worth it. We'll see the Nazis' submarine or U-boat domination in the Atlantic come to its demise, thereby enabling crucial lend-lease goods to make it to the USSR, goods that the Soviets desperately need as they battle that great sacrifice in the east. And then we'll return to France to find a growing resistance, maturing. A resistance that, thanks to Jean Moulin's bravery, is coordinating just enough for Charles de Gaulle to assert his leadership in exile. And with Allied secret agents parachuting in,

it's a France preparing for its liberation for Operation Overlord's D-Day, which is what we're really pointing to. In fact, you could say this is the pre-Pre D-Day episode. So, when we do still skip a few important events from this year, like the Tehran conference. Don't worry. Just know that we're saving those for next time for the pre-D-Day episode. And with that, let's pick up where we left off with Europe in episode 201. With Fascist Italy signing an armistice, rewind. On September 8th, 1943, the world learns that Fascist Italy has signed an armistice with the Allies. Allied Supreme commander in the Mediterranean, Dwight D. Eisenhower, personally announces the news that evening via Radio Algiers. And truly, Italy had no choice. The Allied invasion of Italy's great Mediterranean

island of Sicily, codenamed Operation Husky, was a complete success. Such a success that British and Canadian troops have already made the mere two to three miles skip from the Italian island to the quote-unquote toe of the Italian mainland, an action known as Operation Baytown. The writing's on the wall. Fascist Italy is done for. Even its tepid king, Victor Emmanuel III can see that. Ah, but that's not how the Nazis see it.

From their perspective, Italy isn't folding with a losing hand. It's throwing in the towel as a traitor to their pact of steel. Hence, German field marshal Erwin Rommel writes, Italy's treachery is official. And hence, Germany has no intention of simply walking away from the Italian boo without a fight, particularly when its vast armies are already spread across so much of its fascism founding former allies territory. Thus, even if Italy won't fight the Allies any longer,

the nation will nonetheless become a major battleground as the Wehrmart stands against the advancing allies. That gets us back to where we left off at the end of episode 201. It also gives us the background and context needed to continue following the Allies' imminent invasion of mainland Italy via two more operations. The British executed and all but unopposed seizure of the southern Italian port of Taranto and an American-led, heavily opposed more northern amphibious landing, Operation Avalanche. Given its American flavor and far more significant action, will follow the latter. Throne together in haste as the Allies secure, appeared Sicily in August, Operation Avalanche will land troops significantly farther north up

Italy's western coast than where the Brits and Canucks have already planted the flag. The Yanks are heading to Salerno, a coastal town just 30 miles southeast of Naples. Now, Naples is the real goal. Its massive port is just what the Allies need to punch into the heart of Italy. The problem, however, is that it's just out of reach of the Spitfires currently calling Sicily home and invading out of the war. Allied ground troops will need those single-engine monoplane fires air support to make any amphibious landing successful. Otherwise, well, just cast your mind back to this episode's opening with Eugene Weingdeen Carson. Yeah, we saw all too well how terrifying it is to attack without

fireplane escorts these days. So, sitting just south enough of Naples to be at the northern edge of these spit fires range for an attack window of 20 minutes or so before having to turn around. Salerno is the obvious choice for Operation Avalanche. Of course, that's also the problem. It's so obvious. The Wehrmacht sees it too. Even before Ike took to the radio and made Italy's quote-unquote treachery known, the Germans had sent the 16th Panzer Division into the Salerno plain and prepared defenses along the coast, including machine guns and their deadly 88-millimeter artillery pieces, so there will be no element of surprise here. At least not for the Germans, but the Allied troops, specifically the British 10th Corps and

the U.S. 6th Corps, both commanded by U.S. General Mark Clark, as part of his fifth army, might be in for a surprise. Shipping out, as Ike announces Italy signing the armistice on the evening of September 8th, The infantrymen aren't grasping that just because Italians are no longer fighting. Doesn't mean that the Germans are no longer fighting. To quote maritime historian Samuel Elliott Morrison's summation of the average allied soldiers thinking, we were landing in Italy. And the Italians had quit, hadn't they? Senior officers on the ships transporting these soldiers across the Mediterranean

take to the loudspeakers to set them straight, to shout at them, literally, that they'll meet stiff resistance from German troops. Even still, the message doesn't sink in, but the bullets will. It's 3.30 in the still dark morning, September 9, 1943. A mere nine hours since General Dwight D. Eisenhower announced an armistice with Italy. In about one-third of the way up Italy's west coast, several landing craft are cutting through the freshly minedwept waters of the Gulf of Salern. Those toward the Gulf's northern edge are filled with British boys who will move on the town of Salerno itself.

But eight miles down the white sand shore, in the shadows of 2400-year-old Greek temples, yes, Greek, ruins even older than ancient Rome, these landing craft carry American boys from the 6th Corps' 36th Infantry Division. Originally a Texas National Guard unit, they're a well-trained bunch, but green. that gate drops. This will be their first battle, and the intention is that, striking in the almost still dark with no naval bombardment, they'll have the element of surprise. But that doesn't seem likely. Not with German flares flying in the sky. Do the Germans know they're coming? As dozens of landing craft bow ramps drop across four separate beaches, a German loudspeaker blairs at the disembarking Americans, and in English no less.

and jeho, go close. Oh, God. Not a moment later, well-prepared German machine gunners unload on the landing craft. Some soldiers drop dead before they can even take first step. Others lie wounded, writhing in pain, and the Gulf salt water. Those who make it on the beaches must contend with mortars, 88-millimeter cannons, and the strafing fire of the Luthfotha, all while trying to cut through barbed wire and advance.

But as the sun rises, and what will be in... endless day of battle. As Allied landing craft navigate around remaining mines to land more troops, rocket launchers, howitzers, and ammo, and as fighter aircraft provide air support, the Americans managed to move forward, even if at great risk and sacrifice. As General Mark Clark will later recall, James M. Logan killed three Germans who rushed at him, firing rifles from a wall, shooting nearby machine gunners, and turned the weapon on the rest of the gun crew as they fled. Lieutenant Claire F. Carpenter and Corporal Edgar L. Blackburn, manning a 75-millimeter self-repelled howitzer,

in a defile swept by enemy fire from both flanks, knocked out a machine gun nest and a tank, before they were cut down by a heavy burst of fire. There were countless other acts of heroism. While Sergeant James Logan will later receive the Medal of Honor for turning one of the Germans' own machine guns back on them, September night's landing at Salerno hardly ends as envisioned. The British and American forces have failed to connect, each holding a beachhead only.

Worse still, the Germans receive reinforcements over the next two days, and on the 13th, mount a counterattack that all but drives the Allies back into the sea. General Mark Clark won't have it. While criticism will yet come his way for Day One's landing, he's committed to the operation, and according to his later recollection, he rallies the beleaguered men while speaking from his Jeep. We don't give another inch! This is it. Don't yield anything. We're here to stay. Inspiring, but let's be frank. It's Admiral Henry Hewitt's naval guns, those Cicely-based spitfires, and the parachuting 82nd airborne that turned

things around. And the threat of Britain's General Bernard Montgomery advancing from the south with his 8th Army doesn't hurt. By September 16th, some 150,000 allied troops are on shore. Operation an avalanche is a success. So, the Allies are progressing up Italy's boot, but not nearly as fast nor as easily as one might expect after an armistice due to ongoing German resistance. Well, perhaps we should say mostly German resistance. Benito Mussolini's role in this war isn't over just yet. I know, we witnessed the fallen Ducce's arrest on July 25th, 1943 back in episode We heard the excited celebrations of Italians on the cobblestone streets of Rome the very next evening.

And now, the Italians keep their former fascist leader on the move as an extra precaution. But the watchful Nazis are on a manhunt for Benito. They track his whereabouts to a remote and distant imprisonment, high up among the peaks of the Grand Saso of Italia at the Hotel Campo Imperatore. And on the afternoon of September 12th, as General Mark Clark's army is gasping for life on the beaches of Salerno. 12 DFS 2.30 gliders, essentially small engineless airplanes that once launched can silently approach their target and land with incredible precision on difficult terrain, carry a small force of Nazi paratroopers and SS men to this secluded mountain. They surround

the hotel. Then, after bluffing the 200-strong Italian guard into standing down, SS officer Otto Scorzini greets Benito, allegedly saying, Duce. The Fuhrer has sent me as a token of his loyalty and friendship. With that, the Germans take Il Duce to a tiny monoplane and whisk him off to safety. Or is it captivity? Well, a rescue, a kidnapping, whatever you want to call it, the Italians have lost their fascist former leader to their fascist former ally. Wow. Sounds like a scene right out of a James Bond movie. That's partially true.

It's also partially propaganda. Otto Scorsini, the SS officer, whose comment above felt like a movie script, most likely wasn't the leader he and the fiendishly clever Dr. Joseph Goebbels make him out to be on this mountain raid. Historians will later conclude Luthvaffa Major Otto Harold Mors is probably the brains behind this operation. In fact, propaganda won't only lead us to question the myth built around the Nazis of Skandi, but largely explains why Adolf Hitler ordered the maneuver. See, inept as Benito and his regime have proven militarily. The Nazi regime nonetheless needs to take the wind out of the Allies' recent armistice sails, and nothing says doldrums like propping up their fallen ally anew. Thus, by September 23rd,

Benito is in Italy's German-occupied north. Encelo, puppet leading the Italian Social Republic, or the Salo Republic. That's right. We have two Italy's now, a fascist rump government in the north and an armistice-abiding kingdom in the south. But by no means are all Italians standing by as German forces impose this new reality,

particularly in the up-for-grabb's center of the contested country. And sometimes the most courageous are the youngest. It's September 28, 1942. Day two of open warfare between the citizens of Naples, Italy, and the city's occupying German forces. And I don't say warfare lightly. While things have been tense here since the signing of the armistice, perhaps especially since the Allies fought their way onto the beaches just south of here at Salerno.

The Nazi's recent decision to disarm Italian soldiers and send local Neapolitans to labor camps, pushed the city to full-on rebellion yesterday. And now, with word that says, Some rebels got their hands on a machine gun and took out two Germans. One by the name of Herman, this tank crew is seeking revenge. They've just fired on a store off a Villanardones. They're looking intently at the wreckage, hoping to see suffering or death. The tank commander comments,

No party in it. Two degrees to the left and let them have the other. And let's hope we have better luck. Herman was my friend. Another structure, this time a private home explodes in flames. As it does, the tank commander gets what he wanted. He hears suffering inside. The street's empty.

Everyone is hiding. Every man, every woman. Then a door elsewhere on Via Nardonn opens. A 13-year-old boy steps out. His name is Felipe Illuminato. This is his street. He's known and loved by all. Both his schoolmates and the rough and tumble Spunitsi, that is, the Neapolitan's word for street urges.

And Felipe is not about to watch this German tank systematically destroy his street and kill his neighbors. He starts walking forward with his hand behind his pack, exactly as the skunitsy taught. Mounted on a nearby armored car, a German machine gunner fires a warning shot. But Felipe continues forward. The gunner doesn't like that. Another spray of warning shots. Meanwhile, the tank is taking aim at another building on the street. Kalipo won't allow it.

Suddenly, his small arm emerges from behind him, flinging an object toward the armored car. The gunner is blinded by the smoke and flame, but recovers quickly and fires. Kaleepo is struck in the side, even as he throws his second grenade. But he'll never see if it hits his mind. The gunner unleashed.

loads on him. He sprays the Italian team with bullets, spiguring him, dismembering, even. Silly little devil, the commander mutters. What did he have to do that for? The tank and armored car, he got off, leaving Villanardone's young defender lying lifelessly in a pool of his own blood, but not for long. Neighbors, the men who've watched him grow, and other boys who once played with him on this very street, form a circle of Gran Felipe in an effort to give him cover and dignity and death. The four days of Naples, as this uprising against the Nazis will be known, is a success. By the time the Allies managed to reach Naples, this city, they've bombed for the last three years. The Germans have completely withdrawn.

The Neapolitans have liberated themselves from their nation's former ally. Nonetheless, posthumous medals, like that awarded little Filippo Illuminato, can't hide the hard truth that the armistice won't spare Italy from the war. The Germans will make the Allies pay for every inch of the boot they liberate. This soft underbelly of the axis, as Winston Churchill once called the Mediterranean approach via Italy, has become a backbone. But we have to save the last long and arduous northern push of the Italian campaign for another day. Right now, in 1943, Americans are striking the Nazi war machine from the other side of the continent as well, and with dangerous precision, or perhaps, I should say, running dangerous risks to achieve precision. It's time we turn

our attention back to American daylight precision bombs. In sharp contrast to the Allied advance up Italy in the summer of 1943, the ground in northwestern Europe is at a state. stand still. The reason? The formidable English channel. Neither side has sent an army across since the miraculous evacuation of Dunkirk amid the fall of France. Hence why we haven't heard much about the region for the past 20 or so episodes. But again, that's the ground. The air is a different story. Let me catch you up. While I trust you recall the intense exchange of bombs and strafing fire of the Battle of Britain back in episode 188, Britain's Royal Air Force, and Germany's Luftwaffe never stopped clashing in northwestern Europe's skies.

But tactics changed as it became clear that this war would be a marathon, not a sprint. And his painful losses added up. One lesson the RAF took to heart was that, while bombers could strike with greater accuracy by day, that greater accuracy was negligible. And the losses were too great, especially with limited resources making the island nation reliant on lend lease from the United States. The Brits took to striking at night.

But the U.S. Army Air Forces disagrees. Joining the Britain-based aerial fight against the Axis in the summer of 1942, Major General Carl A. Spots and his 8th Air Force arrived with some concern that night bombings would accidentally strike civilians and with great confidence, that their B-17 flying fortresses and B-24 Liberators could fly so high and so fast that the Luftwaffe would strike. struggle to catch them. And besides, how could they bomb at night when it would mean not using the Norden bombsight? This brilliant analog computer enables American bombers to strike with unparalleled precision, provided the bombardier can see through its powerful magnifying crosshair

telescope. And that isn't happening without daylight. While the Brits see American arrogance, the Americans can't help and see that their technology puts their daytime strikes in a different light. Yes, pun intended, but more to the point, be it arrogance or confidence, the Americans in 1943 genuinely believe they can fly into the heart of Axis territory, drop bombs, and get out. It's with that confidence that they undertake a raid deep in Europe's Axis-controlled Balkans. It's August 1, 1943, and 36-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Addison Baker is seated at the controls of his heavy, four-engine bomber, a B-24 Liberator, affectionately known as Hell's Winch,

soaring over the Romanian countryside. Beneath him are sunflowers, wheat, cornfields, farmers whose seemingly idyllic life defies the reality of a continent seized in war. And Addison can see it all since his bomber and all the others are flying low to avoid access radar. One can only wonder what the farmers think, looking up to see 177 BOR, B-24's overhead. But Addison has no time to wonder about that.

He's focused on his mission, Operation Tidal Wave. Broadly conceived early this year at the Casablanca Conference, then refined, and finally practiced in the deserts of North Africa. The plan is for this massive aerial armada of American bombers to strike the oil refineries of Ployacht, Romania, thereby devastatingly disrupting the source of one-third of the Nazi war machine's oil. Five bomber groups are undertaking this mission, two from the 9th Air Force, and three that came down to North Africa from the England-based Eighth Air Force.

That includes the 93rd, or Ted's traveling circus, as the group's better known, in a nod to Colonel Edward Ted Timberlake. Though it isn't Ted leading them today, Addison Baker is. And he's the right man for the job? A lot of guys are nervous. Can they really believe the brass who claimed the 9th of 9th? Nazis anti-aircraft guns won't see them coming because they're flying too low for radar? That the German defenders won't know it hit them and will be overwhelmed by the falling bombs?

Well, whatever the truth, at least they know Addison is with them. Amid an impromptu devotional, driven by these pilots shared fear that this is a suicide mission. He swore to them, I intend to go over the target. If I go over it in flames, I'm going over it. Well, it's about time to turn toward Ployushed. So here we go. Wait. That's the wrong way.

The lead bomber, piloted by Colonel Keith Compton, just turned toward Bucharest. Not Ployest. Various pilots break radio silence. Not here. Mistake. Mistake. And yet, the colonel continues on the wrong path, causing others to follow. But not all.

Not your Akladon. Not Roury Wagon, not Utah man. And Addison Baker and his hell's wench won't either. Risking court-martial by breaking ranks. This leader of the 93rd likewise goes rogue by holding to the mission and his oath. He banks 90 degrees to the left, toward Ployeste. And as he does, his group follows. 88-millimeter cannons, machine guns, howitzers, you name it.

The German defenders unload all. of the above as the 90-thirds B-24 screened past at 245 miles per hour and a mere 50 feet off the ground. The bombers returned fire while expecting death. As the co-pilot of Little Lady will later recall, all hell was breaking loose. You could hear the swish and feel the shells go by us. My God, we're sitting ducks! As brewery wagon crashes, Addison Baker pulls his bomber to the front, making Hell's Wrench a tip of this aerial attacking spirit. His left wing is hit. The shell explodes on the bomber's nose.

Flames leap from the cocky hit. Yet still, Addison holds course and drops bombs. Following closely in Utah Man, Utah native Lieutenant Walter Stewart tries to signal Addison to pull out to land, but the group leader won't. Walter can only watch as Hell's Winch holds its course showing the whole 93rd the way toward the refinery stacks, even as two of its engines explode in flames. Finally, Hell's Winch starts to climb.

A few men jump out. The bodies ablaze. Then, the plane, now little more than a fireball, drops from the sky. 177B24s flew from Libya to Romania in Operation Tidal Wave. 88 returned. More than 200 airmen are wounded or captured, while another. other 310 are killed outright. Five are awarded the Medal of Honor. Three posthumously. Among those three are Lieutenant Colonel Addison Baker and his co-pilot, Major John Jurstad.

Meanwhile, Nazi ground forces suffer far fewer losses, a rare outcome for a World War II airstrike, and the damage was not just repaired, but exceeded. Within weeks, Ployest is refining more oil than before the raid. In fact, the town will increase. its oil output, eventually providing some 60% of the Nazis crude oil. That's a hard butcher's bill. Only a little over two weeks later on August 17th, the England-based U.S. 8th Air Force launches its first raid on Schweinfurt's ball-bearing factories. Yes, we referenced the raid in this episode's opening, and that day actually had a second target, an aircraft factory in Regensburg, which also saw severe losses. And of course, we already know about the second

raid on Schweinfurt on October 14th, we accompanied Eugene Wing Dean Carson on it. And now that we have the full background on how badly these raids go, his terror at forgetting his parachute only hits harder. And with every airman required to fly 25 missions before being able to go home, these losses are so steep, it means that the odds are stacked against everyone. Statistically, to be a U.S. airman flying out of England is to be as good as dead. And that's why Wing Ding's Day of Terror, the second Schweinfurt raid, is a breaking point. Now, the U.S. 8th doesn't stop flying, nor stop flying by day when it can use the Norden bomb site. But these long-range attacks in which bombers fly without escorts, that is ending.

Long-range attacks will come back next year with the advent of a newer, sleeker P-51 Mustang that can hang with these bombers all the way out and back, and even turn the tables. making the Luthvafa hunters become the hunted. But the story of these yet-to-be birds, and the pilots who will fly them, including the Tuskegee Airmen, is a story for another day. Unforgiving as American flyboys find Europe's skies in 1943.

Allied sailors are seeing more success in the Atlantic. Yes, the Battle of the Atlantic, which we started back in episode 199, is still going, and we won't finish it today either. This battle is a slow burn that effectively runs, the length of the entire European theater. But as we return to it, here's a quick refresher for you. In 1942, German Vice Admiral Karl Dundits U-Boats,

that is submarines, were seeing so much success forming so-called wolf packs and ganging up on Allied vessels that they took to calling this phase of the Battle of the Atlantic the Second Happy Time, or, more mockingly, the American Turkey Shoot. Meanwhile, commander-in-chief of the United States fleet and chief of naval operations, or Comich C&O, Ernest King, whose temper womanizing drinking, but also military brilliance, as we've come to know amid our episodes in the Pacific,

was organizing convoys to better protect Allied ships. But he didn't seem too focused on it, was a bit slow, and convoys were still struggling. These U-boats were sinking so many ships that only 60% of the UK's peacetime cargo equivalent made it to British ports. We're still then for Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin, who, like British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, was lend least reliant on the high-output United States for war material, but was the next link in the chain. While goods shipped southward, around Africa, and across the Persian corridor, are doing all right.

Far too few U.S. goods traveling via the British-run Arctic convoys are making it to his Arctic northern shores. But this changes in 1943, not because Karl Dernitz, who's now the Gros Admiral, or Grand Admiral, and Commander-in-Chief of Nazi Germany's entire Kriegsmarina or Navy, has led up, but because of new tactics and technology. The Allies realize that the U-boat wolf packs are limited on how many ships they can take out. So, the larger a convoy, the higher percentage of merchant ships make it across the Atlantic with their goods. The Allies are also learning the value of air power against the U-boats. Coastal Command launches B-24s.

Aircraft carriers join convoys. Add to this a new airborne radar and searchlight combo, the lead light. Finally, back in the waters, Allied ships are firing a new 24-bomb salvo that explodes like a shotgun blast, the hedgehog. And between all of this? Well, let's just say the battle of the Atlantic. isn't the same battle of the Atlantic. This becomes apparent in early May,

as the U.S.-bound British convoy, ONS5, does the unthinkable. Though losing 12 merchant ships itself, the convoy's escorts, take out seven U-boats, nine if we include two more that crash into each other that night. That may, the Allies still lose 34 ships, but Germany loses 43 U-boats. That's 20%.

of its entire submarine fleet. The happy time is over, and the Germans know it. Dubbing the month Black May, the Kriegsmarina, mourns the loss of men, subs, and supremacy in the Atlantic, as Admiral Karl Dunitz has no choice but to withdraw his once bold U-boats. Thus, by mid-1943, Britain is breathing easier, and the Soviets are breathing easier, because, of course, a safer Atlantic and a lend lease making it to Britain means more British convoys successfully relayed those same made-in-USA goods to the USSR, which the Soviets cannot do without. Now, I don't want to understate Soviet performance.

In the two years since Adolf Hitler betrayed his non-aggression pact with the USSR by launching Operation Barbarossa, which we covered in episode 189, Stalin's troops have stood admirably against the Nazis, but they're suffering losses that are nothing short of catastrophic. By some accounts, 1941 to 42's Battle of Moscow and 1942 to 43's Battle of Stalingrad see more than a million Soviet casualties each. And due to a shortage of war material, some Soviets are literally on the battlefield without a rifle eyeing the dead to find one. Two truths about World War II's Eastern Front that later generations of Americans will forget or never even learn about are these. One, without the sacrifice of Soviet blood, a death toll that, including civilians, will reach 25 million or more by the time this war is through.

Allied victory would have been far less likely, perhaps impossible. And two, Joseph Stalin might be the man of steel, but he couldn't hold back the Nazis without a man. American steel. His forces would have failed without FDR's Lend-Lease program sending what? By the end of the war, will amount to 13,000 tanks, 14,000 aircraft, 400,000 vehicles to say nothing of the 4.5 million tons of food, stating off famine. To quote Stalin himself, without the machines we received through Lend-Lies, we would have lost the war. Huh. You know, a communist regime sure it makes an odd bedfellow for democracy-loving America and Britain, but the fact is that all three of the big three need each other. Defeating the Nazis is a team effort. In short, the Atlantic's

U-boat tide turning in 1943 isn't just a nice touch. It takes a massive kink out of the life-saving lend-lease supply chain, without which, well, the alternative is a frightening thought. And as the summer of 1943 brings yet another unfathomably deadly battle to the Eastern Front, the largest tank-driven battle in human history, the Battle of Kursk, to say nothing of the fighting at Nieper and Kiev, American-built tanks number among the thousands of Soviet tanks rolling west. And so, with the Nazis now fighting, a reinvigorated American-supplied Soviet army in the east, with Allied troops pushing north through Italy toward Germany itself, and, though costly, air raids coming out of England that damage and distract enough for Germany's minister of armaments in war production, Albert

Speer, to call these bombers a, quote-unquote, third front for the third Reich. The fueler has gone from offense to defense. And it's about to get all the more troubling for Adolf, especially as resistance against Nazi occupation and the Vichy regime, Mount. in France. At this point, we've followed the American and British up Italy, deadly allied bomber raids on Axis Europe, the U-Boats' demise in the Atlantic, improved lend-lease deliveries, and seen Soviet winds in the East. All of this, broadly speaking, happening near or during the summer of 1943. A busy summer. But we're not done. That same August, between

the 17th and 24th, American, British, and Canadian leaders gather for the Quebec Conference, or to use its code name, the Quadrant Conference. Yes, the same conference we caught a glimpse of during the tale of Merrill's Marauders in Episode 210, but their genesis here is, with no disrespect, a conference side quest. The real matter at Quebec is what to do about the long-discussed and delayed amphibious assault on Nazi-occupied France via the English Channel. As always, U.S. Army Chief of Staff, George C. Marshall, pushes hard for it. But the British brass still want to see more advancement in Italy.

Keep in mind that, in August, Operation Husky might be wrapping on Sicily, but the armistice is yet to be signed, and Italy's boot remains untouched. But after a lot of frustration and arguing, George finally gets what he's wanted for years. And English Channel Crossing amphibious assault, codenamed Overlord, is a lot of is named, and I quote, the primary U.S. British ground and air effort against the Axis in Europe. Close quote. The current target for this attack, and current is the key word, will be May 1, 1944.

Meanwhile, the Allies will keep unremitting pressure on German forces in northern Italy to keep the Nazis from reinforcing northern France. And speaking of that fallen ally, there's talk here in Quebec of how he research. surging France will help to prep the way for its own liberation. La France. We've detailed its fall and current state thoroughly between episodes 188, 189, and 200, and even 206 in a way, as we watched the film Casablanca, but to refresh your memory on the broadest of

strokes, the Third Republic fell in May, 1940, then through a harsh armistice. The Nazis imposed occupation in the north and along the Atlantic coast, while permitting the creation of a French regime, a collaborationist regime, that's set up in the spa town of Vichy, to administer the south of France and France's global empire. Since then, we've seen the Allies rest French North Africa from Vichy and the Desert Fox, Germany's Irwin Rommel, and FDR and Winston Churchill accept that, though the man can be stubborn and hard to work with General Charles de Gaulle, or Charles de Gaulle, to the English ear, is emerging as France's leader in his London-based exile. Well, it's him or Henri Girol, but probably Charles. Feeling caught up?

Excellent. Let's get to the trouble now brewing for both the occupying Third Reich and collaborationist Vichy France, and it's a brew of the two regime's own making. See, while there was some resistance in France from day one of the occupation, it really was small, mostly graffiti, then newspapers, and a few truly brave souls who risked their lives to help crash-landed Allied airmen back to Britain. This was because as long as you didn't fight the occupation or Vichy and weren't Jewish, life pretty much carried on. Jean-Paul Sartre finished writing his existential magnum opus, being and nothingness. and French cinema even had a little renaissance.

But to pick up where we left off with Francois d'Alon in episode 200, when the Vichy Admiral made a deal with the Allies in French North Africa in November 1942, the Nazis responded by occupying Vichy France. And that didn't change when a Piers noir man killed him. All of mainland France was now occupied. And life in France grew considerably worse early this year, In January, Vichy created a new paramilitary force, La Milis, which cruelly strives to outdo the Nazis at rounding up French Jews and crushing resistance fighters. Only a month later, February, 1943, came the service to travail obligatory, a law conscripting young men in the early 20s to labor in Germany.

The goal here was to shore up Germany's growing casualties by forcing 1.5 million Frenchmen to carry the Reichschilder. his war economy, thereby freeing up more Germanmen to fight the front. And lest the point to be lost, Vichy, not the occupying Nazis, created the Milis and the Estio. Vichy did Adolf's dirty work. And that is how Vichy's leader, the man we first met so long ago as a hero in our World War I episodes, the Lion of Verdant, Philippe falls from his position as France's son of the morning to his own personal perdition. But Philippe's final tale is far ahead. Right now, the service du trévaille obligatory has caused tens of thousands of young men to disappear into France's dense forests and expansive

mountains, and not just to get away, but to fight back. Known as Le Maquis, the word for the dense Mediterranean scrubland, or Corsican outlaws once vanished. from the law, these young men, as well as women, take to France's forests and mountains as they turn to guerrilla warfare in their fight to liberate France from within. While it's exciting to see the French, or at least a sizable minority of the French, reclaim their will to fight, let us be clear. The resistance is a far cry from an organized army. From the predominantly communist-led French-Tierreux and Partizant to the Jewish and Zionists Armée Juif, the Count countless bands of mountain-dwelling machi and so many other resistance organizations,

coordination is on par with herding cats. Yet, as the emerging leader of France in the eyes of the Allies, Charles de Gaulle wants to bring them into his fold. Needs to, in fact, if he's going to join FDR, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin at the big boys' table and completely edge out his remaining competitor, Henri Girol. But how does one convince the independently-minded, politically divided French people? A reality that Charles himself will allegedly quip about decades from now by asking,

How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese? To pull together now. Well, the general has a lot of help. Most memorably, from Jean Moulin. Born and raised not far from southern France's Mediterranean coast, handsome and talented Jean Moulin was a likable, if lackadaisical student, who grew up to become an effective sense. civil servant, serving as France's youngest prefect in history. He was serving in this influential

and connective position in Chathre when the Nazis arrived in 1940, and immediately his resolve as a French official was put to the test. The Germans wanted him to sign a protocol condemning colonial troops for massacres and atrocities. But John knew they weren't guilty, that these brave Tyrailleur were guilty of nothing save defending the Third Republic. Jean was locked in a room with a dismembered corpse, a woman's corpse, he believed. Seeing just how far Nazi cruelty could go, he feared that he would crack under the pressure and sign. So, to protect these tirayers and de jens, he slid his own throat. The Germans found Jean.

They medically intervened and saved his life, but also realized this man wouldn't cave. Jean was free to go and took to wearing a scarf to hide his scar. pushed out of his role as a prefect by Vichy, Jean left for London via Portugal in September 1941 to talk to Charles de Gaul. The traditional conservative general and the leftist, suspected communist, ex-prefect, could hardly have been more different, but they believed in each other.

In January 1942, Jean parachuted back into France, ready to put his connections and interpersonal skills to use, coordinating resistance groups, and orienting them toward Charles de Gaul. And over the next year, as Vichy was occupied, created the Melisse, and made Le Estio the law of the land, Jean, now working under the pseudonyms of Rex or Max, saw success. Indeed, returning to our president of 1943, Jean sees perhaps his greatest achievement. On May 27th, Black May to German sailors in the Atlantic, our scarf-wearing resistance leader

meets with the leaders of various resistance groups at 48 Rue du Fuhr in Paris to create the Consé Nacional de la Resistence, the National Council of the Resistance. This is real coordination. The French resistance is starting to coalesce. But only a month later, in June, Jean and other resistance fighters are arrested in Lyon. The head of Lyon's Gestapo, Klaus Barbie, learns Jean's true identity. that here he has the closest thing the French resistance has to a leader in the entire country. Klaus tortures Jean. Suffice it to say that the Nazi lives up to his moniker as the butcher of Lyon in the process.

Meanwhile, Jean proves that he was wrong about one thing. He didn't need to worry that he might have betrayed those tirayeur and Dijain back in 1940. The former prefect never cracks, not even in a similar. my conscious state. He's transferred to Paris and from there sent to Germany for further interrogation, but the resistance leader never makes it. S succumbing to the effects of Klaus's brutality that left him unrecognizable. Jean dies in transit on July 8, 1943, destined to two in the decades following be immortally remembered among France's greatest heroes in the Pantheon. Just before Jean was arrested, on June 3, 1943, a French provisional government organized.

It's called the Comite French de Liberation Nacional, the French Committee of National Liberation. The committee will fight for French liberty from a colonial capital, establishing itself in Algiers, French Algeria. The provisional government is also recognized by the Allies and under the leadership of Charles de Gaul and Henri Giro. Henry is more likable. FDR would certainly prefer to work with him. But Charles is the one that our late resistance heroes' national council recognizes as the leader of France. And with that recognition coming from the inner workings of occupied France and serving as the closest thing to a democratically recognized leader,

what choice do the Allies have? In the months to come, Henri Giro is fully sidelined. By the end of 1943, Charles is the undisputed leader of the Free France Provisional Government. and with French and colonial troops in North Africa ready to cross the Mediterranean and the swelling ranks of the resistance ready to coordinate from within, well, Osam Citoyant is far more than a patriotic lyric.

The French will do their part and coordinate with the Allies in preparation for Operation Overlord. And that brings us full circle because the Allies are actually working directly with the French resistance. British and American operatives from the two nations' brand new, espionage organizations, the United Kingdom Special Operations Executive, and the United States

Office of Strategic Services, created in 1940 and 1942, respectively, are parachuting into France, bringing arms, radios, and other needed supplies to the Machi to help them harass the Germans from behind the lines, weakening the occupation and preparing the fallen republic to rise anew and fight the moment that the Allies take those daring and deadly first steps on Normandy's beaches. Roughly one-third of OSS agents are women. And one in particular will go to extreme lengths and service to her country. That includes facing the most dangerous of circumstances. It's a beautiful spring day, 1944, and an elderly woman, Madame Marcell, is limping through

the fields of the Lopina Farm in the Department of Cruz in central France. But she doesn't seem focused on her cows or her cheese-making today. Instead, Madame Marcell ducks into her cottage, then, minding her prosthetic leg, ascends to the loft. And here, she radios her latest intel to London. Here's the deal. Madame Marcell isn't actually old or a French peasant. She isn't even Madame Marcell. The truth is that she's a late 30-something American named Virginia Hall,

passing for a much older woman than reality, thanks to the woman. the handiwork of the British Special Operations Executive. They taught her how to wrinkle her appearance with makeup, and they even filed down her teeth to match the aesthetic of a born-in-the-last-century peasant's dental care. Talk about committing to the bit. The only thing real about her appearance is the wooden leg, the result of a hunting accident 11 years back. Not that it slowed her down. When her first stint of wartime espionage as an SOE agent ended, in her needing to high-tail at a across the Pyrenees and into Spain. Virginia did it, hobbling her way over the mountains. Now she's back in France as an operative of her own nation's even newer OSS. As for the cows and

the cheese, look, Virginia's a fine farmhand, but it's all an excuse to scope out fields as potential parachute zones, to sell delectable dairy products to Nazi soldiers while eaves dropping with her perfect German, to help the marquee. And finally, to radio her intel, back to London in preparation for Operation Overlord. But Virginia has to be careful. The Germans haven't forgotten about the limping lady, as they know her, who eluded them in 1942. And one of her fellow OSS agents, codenamed Ahamis, well, he just keeps visiting unnecessarily

from distant Paris and seems a little loose-lipped. So much could go wrong there. But hey, it looks like Virginia is finishing up her. her transmission. So enough background. Let's return to her story. Carefully packing up her radio in the loft, Virginia hears a truck approaching her cottage. It must be aramis. Irritated, she shuffles to the door. But it's far worse. It's a group of German soldiers. One of them, an officer, demands, what are you doing alone in the cottage? Virginia doesn't miss a beat. She answers with a partial truth. She's been cooking and

pending cows for her employer, the farmer Eugene Lopina. But the officer isn't going to let her off the hook that easily. Keeping Virginia out on the porch, he sends three soldiers inside to tear the place apart for anything illicit. Virginia's heart races. She knows she can't run, not on one leg. But what if they find her radio? She'll be in the Gestapo's hands in no time. Casually she tries to get ahead of it, mentioning that she has no idea what is in the loft.

She's too old to climb up there. The soldiers soon emerge, and they have something all right. But it's not her radio. It's her cheese. Brie, Camemberre, Saint-Necterre, perhaps a blue. So many possibilities. But alas, we don't have those details. Thinking with their stomachs, the Germans toss a few coins at the supposed peasant woman and return to their truck.

And as their vehicle rumbles into the distance, Virginia's racing heart starts to slow. But she knows she's on borrowed time at the Lopena Farm. A fact that will be confirmed but a week from now when the Nazis kill four villagers suspected of working with the resistance and leave their bodies to rot for all to see impaled at the neck on a spiked iron fence. She'll soon move on to assist Mackey elsewhere as Operation Overlord looms.

And after the very busy Southern Italy taking bomber raiding, U-boat defeating, lend lease delivering, Soviet advancing, Allied conferencing, and French resistance-growing year of 1943, Operation Overlord, or D-Day, as most of us will know it. Looms for us, too. And next time, we'll be with the brass, planning this daunting crossing of the English Channel in earnest. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson.

Episode written by Greg Jackson. Research by Greg Jackson and executive editor Riley Newbound. Production by Airship. Audio editing by Mohamed Shah Zaid. Sound design by Molly Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsay Graham of Airship. For bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode,

visit htdspodcast.com. HtDS is supported by fans at htbspodcast.com slash membership. My gratitude to your kind souls providing funding to help us keep going. Thank you. And a special thanks to our patrons whose monthly gift puts them at producer status.

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