History That Doesn't Suck - 214: D-Day, Part I: From the First Quebec Conference to June 5, 1944

Episode Date: October 19, 2026

“Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade.”This is the story of the preparations for D-Day. In November, 1943 the “Big Three”–that is, Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin–meet in person for the first time to discuss launching an Operation “Overlord,” a cross-channel invasion of Nazi-held France. With the leaders’ go-ahead, the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF) led by General Dwight D. Eisenhower doubles down. As fighting continues in the Mediterranean theater, Ike works to gather sufficient men, supplies, and landing equipment, but it’s no easy feat. As 1943 turns into 1944, more than 1.4 million American troops arrive in Great Britain for training. The men face extreme weather conditions, equipment malfunction, and maybe even friendly fire during training? Yeah, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows on the southern coast of Merry England, especially as the weather forecast for the planned attack of France looks atrocious. Will Ike and his men be able to pull off what’s gearing up to be the largest amphibious invasion in history?____Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com andgo deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendationsjoin discussions in our Facebook communitycome 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

Hello, friends, Professor Jackson here. Just a quick reminder about our new show, Government That Doesn't Suck. It explores how our American system functions and where it fails by blending historical storytelling with expert insights. Search for and follow government that doesn't suck on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you listen, or visit htDSpodcast.com. It's a little after three in the afternoon, November 28, 1943, and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and his entourage are just getting settled in at the gorgeous yellow mansion

currently serving as the Soviet embassy in Tehran, Iran. Now, FDR had planned to stay elsewhere, but after a vague warning from Soviet foreign commissar, Vychislav Malatov, about Nazi agents, possibly even an assassination plot, plans changed. So, here the Americans are, unpacking all over again. But as they do, There's a knock at the door.

A few figures step into the room, a young American officer serving as escort, an interpreter, and finally, a short, stout, salt and peppered man with a fantastic walrus mustache, dressed in a khaki tunic adorned with the gold star of the hero of socialist labor. While the uniform speaks to his role as marshal of the Soviet Union, this rank is the least of his titles. This is the General Secretary of the Communist Party, the premier of the USSR. This is Joseph Stalin. Clad in a blue suit and smart tie, FDR grins from his wheelchair. This is their first meeting.

And affable as ever, the American president says, I am glad to see you. I have tried for a long time to bring this about. Stalin gives a hearty laugh as the two men quickly jump to talking shop. everything from the struggles on the Russian front, to Generalissimo Shonkai Sheck and General Charles de Gaul. Yeah, if anything beyond defeating the Axis can bond these strange bedfellows. In many ways, the living embodiments of liberal democracy and communism,

they might be their shared distaste for the French general and his thin mustache. But we won't pin any hopes on a deep bond between these two. The real bromance will remain, only between FDR. and Winston Churchill. It's now 4 o'clock. FDR, Stalin, and British PM, Winston Churchill, take their seats. This is the Big Three's first gathering ever, entourage is in tow. Well, most of them.

Thanks to a miscommunication, both U.S. Chief of Staff, George C. Marshall, and commanding general of the Army Air Forces, Henry H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. H. Arnold are missing. They're out sightseeing. Ah, awkward. Nonetheless, FDR kicks off the meeting. Winking at his relative youth compared to his British and Soviet counterparts, he welcomes them to this auspicious conference at which they sit, as a family, with the one

object of winning the war. Winston, too, notes their shared goal, and the burden it carries. We represent here a concentration of great worldly power. In our hands we have perhaps the responsibility for the shortening of this war. In our hands we have, too, the future of mankind. I pray that we may be worthy of this God-given opportunity. Franklin turns to Stalin. Perhaps our host would like to say a few words.

I take pleasure and welcoming those present. I think that history will show that this opportunity has been of tremendous import. Now, let us get down to business. Down to business indeed. And paramount among this business is one particular invasion. The very same invasion that George Marshall has fought tooth and nail for at conferences over the past two years and would adamantly do so now. if he had known to be here.

This is the cross-channel invasion of Normandy, known as Operation Overlord. Quebec named it the top priority just months ago. But the challenges keep stacking up. FDR comments, The channel is such a disagreeable body of water. No matter how unpleasant that body of water might be, however, we still want to get across it.

We were very glad it was an unpleasant body of water at one time. Ah, there's Winston's Rye Witt. As the room settles, FDR name's the real problem. We cannot do everything we would like to do in the Mediterranean and also from the United Kingdom, as there is a definite bottleneck in the material of war called landing craft.

And once again, the question rises. What is the greater risk? Cautiously waiting too long to cross the channel, and hit France, or recklessly pushing ahead. The Americans have long feared the former, the Brits, the latter. So now, Franklin wants to know, what does Stalin think? In the USSR, it is believed that the most suitable sector for a blow at Germany would be from someplace in France, northwestern France or southern France.

This Soviet push, or nudge, rather, is exactly. Exactly what this stalled out, relitigated at every conference question needed. Deadly and logistical challenges be damned. The Allies will cross that unpleasant body of water. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. That plenary session opens a four-day conference at Tehran that runs through December 1st, 1943. The takeaway? It's time to hit France, and Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin is pushing hard for it.

In fact, on day two, Stalin insists that a commander being named and bluntly asks Winston Churchill, Do the British really believe in overlord? Or are they only saying so to reassure the Russians? And we'll get to the British Bulldogs' answer shortly. Because today, our story is the Allied preparations for the most ominous of D-days. June 6th, 1944, the invasion of Normandy, France, aka Operation Overlord. It's going to require the British and the Americans to trust each other more than they ever have, even as they misread and misconstrue each other, more than they ever have. We'll start by surveying the preparations that predate Tehran. A reminder that, strong as Joseph Stalin's influence at Tehran was,

his energy served as an additive to momentum. We'll then see the fight and politics over who will command overlord. It wasn't obvious that it would be Dwight D. Eisenhower. In fact, everyone first expected a Brit. From there, we'll see just how heavy a command overlord is for Ike, the scramble for troops and the landing craft to carry them, the stealthy on-site assessments of the beaches, the fake armies serving as decoys to say nothing of all the death,

the hundreds of Americans who will die in a practice run gone wrong, the thousands of innocent French whose deaths by Allied bombings will make Winston Churchill's stomach turn. Meanwhile, the Nazis are preparing too, under one of Germany's finest field marshes. Welcome back to the story, Erwin Rommel. And let's not forget an unwitting Japanese ambassador, Oshima Hiroshi, whose messages the Allies are quietly reading.

So, can Ike and the Allies pull together all the cunning, coordination, training, production, sheer luck, and get the weather that this invasion needs? Do they dare launch this operation? Let's find out. And we begin by backing up several months to the real initial planning. Rewind. While many among the American brass have been eager to undertake a cross-English Channel attack since at least 1942.

We might say that idea really starts to take shape in early 1943. That spring, Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Edgeworth Morgan, or Freddie, as his friends know him, is named Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander, or Cossack, for short. Never mind that there is no such commander for this potential Channel Crossing as of yet. All that feels certain, in fact, is that this commander will be British, just as Freddie is British. specifically English. Well, following the Trident Conference in D.C. that May, which moves the operation forward and names it Overlord,

Freddie's report in July is largely pessimistic. He says Overlord will be fraught with hazards. And unless these are squarely faced and adequately overcome, the operation cannot succeed. Yikes. Nonetheless, Freddie offers a glimmer of hope, expecting that these will be overcome, provided the energies of all concern, are bent to the problem. And that's just what the Allied leaders aim for as they gather for their first Quebec conference,

codenamed Quadrant that August, to bend themselves to the problem, particularly the Americans who, after feeling like the British, have taken them on a few too many Mediterranean side quests, are hell-bent on making overlord happen. There's brass on brass tension, but the conference concludes, as we learned in episode 212, with overlord being named, quote, the primary U.S. British ground and air effort against the axis in Europe, close quote, and holding to the Trident named date of May 1, 1944. Hoo, an exhausted George C. Marshal is undoubtedly thrilled, even if many details remain to get worked out.

In quasi-command, as of September, Cossack Freddie Morgan carries on examining those details. Even for just three divisions, the still bossless chief of staff sees Overlord will need more landing craft, particularly the landing craft tank or LCT. With no time to build them all, they'll have to steal some from the Mediterranean. That autumn, the British chiefs of staff accept Freddie's proposals for Overlord as their own point of view and ask the Americans to comment. Meanwhile, a UK-based memo cautions against treating Overlord as the quote-unquote pivot of Allied strategy. And on October 23rd, a worried Winston Churchill writes Franklin Roosevelt.

I am deeply concerned with the buildup and with the situation which may arise between the 30th and 60th days. My dear friend, this is much the greatest thing we have ever. attempted. Now, to be clear, Winston may deeply doubt the wisdom of invading France. Back in July, he admitted to Secretary of War Henry Stimson that he'd back out if it were his call. But the British bulldog is committed. To quote Henry's account of this same conversation, having made his pledge, he, Winston Churchill, would go through with it loyally. Still, the Americans wonder, are the Brits trying to get out of this? One U.S. Chiefs of Staff memo is quite blunt, saying that,

it is apparent that the British, who have consistently resisted a cross-channel operation, now feel overlord is no longer necessary. The report further claims that the British preferred to let Mediterranean operations and the crushing Russian offensive finish Germany off rather than risk and almost certain bloodbath. Amid these American doubts about British, doubts. The big three meet in Tehran. Stalin's push helps, especially his insistence that a commander be named. He doesn't care who. He just wants someone in charge. He knows that will help this get done.

Ah, and how the ground has shifted on who will command. With more Yankee boots than British set to storm the beaches at this point, a British commander no longer makes sense. And American doubts about British commitment, seal it. To quote Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, writing to FDR on the matter back in August, we cannot now rationally hope to be able to cross the channel and come to grips with our German enemy under a British commander. His prime minister and his chief of the imperial staff are,

frankly, at variance with such a proposal. Well, given this, the right commander is obvious. George C. Marshall. No, that isn't an error. You heard me correctly. FDR wants George to command, but then reality sinks in. This would actually demote the brilliant U.S. Army Chief of Staff. And then what?

Is a current subordinate really going to replace George and D.C. and give him orders? That doesn't make sense to a number of top brass, nor to Republican politicians, who upon even catching wind of this idea, read it as a democratic ploy to push aside the famously nonpartisan general so Harry Hopkins, can get his hands on lucrative military contracts. Thus, even though many consider George C. Marshall to be the Ulysses S. Grant of his generation, they have to find someone else. But that someone else is hardly second tier. FDR will turn to the general who so diligently and exceptionally served as an assistant chief of staff running the operations division under George Marshall early in the war.

Back before he all but told George off for trying to keep him in DC, see, an act of grit that only made George smile. You might remember that story from episode 199. I am, of course, talking about the commander we've followed through the Mediterranean, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Franklin heads back to North Africa for a few days post-Hara, in part to meet with Ike. Sitting side-by-side in the back of a staff car on December 7, 1943 at the Cairo or Tunis airport. Sources conflict. FDR tells the leader of operations Torch and Husky, well, Ike, you are going to command overlord.

The decision is made official a few weeks later. As U.S. Army historian Gordon Harrison puts it, the appointment of General Eisenhower ended almost a year of uncertainty, which kept many of the preparations for invasion in long suspense. It's not just the allies who are focusing energy on this roughly 350-mile stretch of French coastline. In November, 1993, around the same time as the Big Three's Tehran Conference, Adolf Hitler turns his attention west.

He orders the reinforcement of the Atlantic coast and sends one of his most famous field marshals, Irwin Rommel. Yes, Germany's famed Desert Fox, whom we saw in action in North Africa back in Episode 200. A little background. Back in August, 1942, Adolf Hitler ordered the expansion of concrete coastal walls in France with a, quote-unquote, fanatic energy. The goal was to create a series of strong points filled with roughly 30 to 70 men and machine guns that would join together to form a defense belt of interlocking fire. But the strategy had holes, and not just those between the strong points.

The Nazis were facing a severe lack of troops, not to be done. deterred, the German dictator doubled down. That September, the furor called for 15,000 concrete strong points, held by 300,000 soldiers, a new Atlantic wall built on landing places in the open coast, specifically on beaches that would be likely targets for an Allied invasion and completed by May 1, 1943. Talk about a pipe dream. The Reich's construction arm, organization Tote, figured they'd hit 40% by then, at best, and Adolf ranked what would get built up first, U-boat bases, then harbors, followed by the Channel Islands. As for these welcoming beaches on the open coast, dead last. By the following summer, 1943, the German high command zeroed in on positions along the English Channel.

focusing heavily on reinforcing the Padikale area, just down the coast from Dunkirk. It's the closest point in France to England, close enough that on a clear day, you can see it from England's cliffs of Dover. After this Atlantic Wall announcement, though, Adolf didn't really follow up. He was absorbed with the Russian campaign. But that changed in November 1943, as the fewer became convinced the decisive battle of this war would be fought not in the east but in the west. Ah, thus is sending the legendary desert fox to see what's actually standing on that coast.

So now, as we enter 1944, what does this Atlantic wall look like? Well, let's find out, shall we? It's just weeks into the new year, the night of January 18th to 19th, 1944. The moustachioed, 23-year-old Logan Scott Bowden, is somewhere in the waters of the English Channel, near the Quotontaint, or Cherbourg Peninsula. He's inside the British midget submarine, HMSX20, currently sharing the odorous, cramped space of this 51-foot sub with four other men tightly packed amid tons of equipment. They're out in the cold channel, on a mission, preparing the way for Operation Overlord. This is Operation Postage Abel. What does that mean?

Well, as members of the combined operations pilotage parties, or cop for short, these men conduct covert reconnaissance of enemy-held beaches before amphibious assaults. They chart defense structures and test the sand, because no one wants hundreds of tons of armor sinking into a beach in the middle of Overlord. They have a successful New Year's Eve mission under their belts, and right now, Logan and the rest of the X-20s crew, the skipper, engineer, mission commander Nigel Klogston Wilmot, and the one other who will go ashore with Logan, Bruce Ogden Smith,

are approaching the western half of these anticipated beaches, codenamed Omaha, in the American sector, though the men don't know those details at present. Bottoming the submarine on the channel floor, the cop team takes turns looking up through the periscope to scout the beach. to see things that aerial photos simply can't catch. And they find the Germans at work on their Atlantic wall. Amid well-fortified concrete works,

they see horse-drawn carts furiously moving excavated debris out of sight. The Brits spy emplacements and deduce just which guns their foe will have. Surveying one spot after the next, the men in the sub are left with one thought. Recently arrived Irwin Rommel. I certainly stood things up. Then, at about four in the afternoon, they hear the whip crack of Mouser Rion's hitting the water. Some are far off, some are not. Have they been spotted?

No one can risk the periscope to find out. The X-20 slithers away and settles on the channel's bottom. With the five men have a debate, should they call off tonight's swim? Ultimately, they decide they can't. Waiting until it gets dark, the midget submarine surfaces, and for the first time in 12 hours its crew sucks in fresh air. Logan and Bruce contort themselves to change into loose-fitting waterproof suits in the tiny two-foot-by-10-inch area above the battery compartment.

Now about 7.20 p.m. And with the submarine, just three or 400 yards from the shore, the two men plunge into the chilly channel waters. And they swim. They do so laden down with the tools, the trial, A colt 45, a waterproof flashlight, a vandalier of 12 sample tubes, and a flask of brandy, naturally. At 735, they touched down in about three and a half a few of smooth water near the coastal camera of Le Mnuna.

The two sit very still as a German centrist shines a flashlight directly toward them. The tension only mounts as the first Nazi is joined by a second. And as Logan and Bruce, while and lean carefully edge back to the park, they successfully slip away and swim 350 yards down the coast to try again. Here, they push manual metal augers, large corkscrew-looking tools, into the ground. The sand is packed so hard, they can't drive it more than nine inches. That's a good sign. This beach will hold tanks.

And as they fill their tubes, more good news. There, in the sand, a single line of footprints, which tells them something worth the whole trip. This beach is not on it. At 9.20 p.m., roughly two hours after beginning their journey short, Logan and Bruce swim out to the 16-foot mark and give the recovery signal. The X-20 picks them up half an hour later. The mission is complete. They go out again the following night.

January 19 through 20th. This time, off Kulvue Somerer. Same drill, same results. Then, the next afternoon, Germans fire at their periscope, but do nothing more. They've mistaken the spying glass

for a mere flotsam on the surface. It's a lucky break, and with the weather turning, the X20 heads home, tying up at Portsmouth on the 21st. Within the next few days, Logan is summoned to Norfolk House in London, where he stands among senior officers,

including the Yank who will command the American ground assault, Lieutenant General Omar Bradley. They want to hear what he saw. And here, Logan gives them the rundown. As best he can tell, no civilians in the towns, no mines or wires on the beaches. And yes, that hard-packed sand will hold tanks. But he cautions, there's a ridge,

rising in a long, concave slope, which means almost nowhere on that beach to take cover. There's also a bank of stones toward the back of the beach. These will prove natural barriers to armored vehicles. In other words, this amphibious invasion is viable. The beach will take the armor. But pushing past the sand, that is where the trouble lies. In mid-January, 1944, Dwight D. Eisenhower reaches London to take on his new role as supreme Allied commander,

Allied Expeditionary Force. His arrival triggers more intense focus on the upcoming invasion, Operation Overlord. Within a week, Ike holds the first meeting with his staff and the commanders at the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, aka Sheaf, and Norfolk House, London. His men are as follows. Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsey, commander of naval forces, air chief marshal Sir Arthur Teter, Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, General Sir Bernard Montgomery, commander of land forces, Air Chief Marshal, Sir Trafford Lay Mallory, commander of Air Forces. And what of Cossack Freddie

Morgan, the Brit who spent nearly a year planning this invasion? Yes, he's here too, now demoted to Deputy Chief of Staff. That's no slight to Freddie. It's just that Ike needs his right-hand man, Betel Smith or just Beetle, whom we met back in Sicily, serving as chief of staff. Planning for Overlord intensifies. Ike, Beel, and the other new arrivals are shocked at the limitations

Freddy's worked under. Three divisions to storm the beaches? Ike had more when invading Sicily. They get bumped up to five ground divisions, and three more will parachute in. Two divisions arrive per month, but more troops means more landing craft. A problem, Freddie was already calling out at three divisions.

So the May 1st target slips a month to build more, including the more than 300 foot long landing ship tank, or LST. And building up these landing craft numbers will mean sacrifices from not just the Mediterranean, but the Pacific, as overlords swallows up these vital vessels. Meanwhile, newly arrived GIs are training for an operation that they don't know a thing about, not when or where. Take, for instance,

22-year-old Felix Branham of K Company, 116th Infantry. He's stationed at a British barracks at Crown Hill, near Plymouth. Yes, the same Plymouth from which the Pilgrim set sail back in 1620. Morning start with a four-mile run in 20 minutes. Yes, that's the pace he claims. Then comes breakfast, then another two to three miles through courses he'll later recall as,

some of the damnedest obstacles that anybody could think of. Sometimes we thought the devil had thought up some of those obstacle courses. They'd hike through low, thick fog, a classic in England, climb cargo nets, swim in tanks of water with full equipment on, learn to identify and use enemy weapons, and communicate in Morse code. But even his uncle Sam holds his cards close, he gives his hard-training GI nephews the occasional laugh. A short guide to Great Britain quips that, quote,

the British don't know how to make a good cup of coffee. You don't know how to make a good cup of tea. It's an even swap, close quote. By the end of January, Operation Overlord is taking firmer shape. The official date is now June 1st, and Sir Bertram Ramsey, Sir Bernard Montgomery, and Sir Trafford Lay Mallory, overlord's commanders-in-chief of the sea, land, and air, respectively,

have produced the initial joint plan for the landings, codenamed Neptune. It calls for the first U.S. Army to assault both sides of the Vierre estuary, one regiment on a beach codenamed Utah, two on a shore codenamed Omaha. The Yanks will then push into the Sherbourg Peninsula to take its namesake port. To their east, the British will take the codenamed beaches of gold and sword, sandwiching the Canadian forces taking Juneau. Meanwhile, the Allies debate a second landing on France's Mediterranean coast. Operation Anvil, though later renamed Dragoon.

Stalin pushed for it at Tehran. In fact, he wanted the Allies to hit the South first before crossing the channel. But Amville would mean siphoning troops from Italy, where January's landing at Anzio has bogged down. And again, there's a limitation of landing craft. So, sorry, Stalin. Southern France will just have to wait. Anvil gets pushed back to August. At this same time, spring, 1944, the Allies launched their transportation plan,

a strategic bombing campaign that targets French and Belgian rail networks, bridges, and roads, with the ultimate goal of inhibiting Germany's ability to transport troops and supplies for defense. The night of March 6, 263 British bombers dropped more than 1,000 tons of bombs on the railway center at Trapp, just southwest of Paris, and tracks, engines, wagons, and sheds are so terribly damaged that the center is out of commission for a month. Eight other rail centers are attacked in March with similar results. British intelligence works closely with the French resistance, organizing sabotage missions, triggered by coded messages broadcast over the BBC.

Amid all of this, a slight of hand operation, Operation Fortitude, builds a phantom army group in Southeast England. There are some real units, and real radio traffic, yes, but also inflatable, fake tanks and artillery, fake aircraft, and even scarecrows in uniform. It might look ridiculous up close, but to the rare Luftwaffe aircraft that stamps a photo with a flat 2D lens, it's absolutely convincing. And that keeps the Germans thinking what they have since 1942, that any cross-channel invasion will most likely happen at Pad de Calais. Hence, they continue to concentrate forces there. And no, this is not the American's famous Ghost Army.

Those thousand-odd men of the 23rd headquarters special troops don't reach England until May, and their sound equipment, which will make these inflatables all the more convincing, is still in New York. York. I mention them only because they get attached to D-Day so often. Their real deception work comes later on the continent. In April, a 10-mile-deep band of British coastline becomes a restricted zone. Civilians living inside can't leave, and no one can go in. On April 7th, General Sir Bernard Montgomery, or Manti as we know him, commander of the Allied ground forces, presents the big-picture strategy to allied military leadership at St. Paul's School in London. He does so with his usual rule in place. No smoking. Or at least he does so until just before the tea break when he announces,

when we reassemble, gentlemen, you may smoke if you wish. The room explodes in laughter because everyone knows why Monty's permitting it. Cigar-chomping Winston Churchill and chain-smoking Ike are about to join them. This senior gathering is now led in on the closely held five beach attack plan, as well as the forecast of where their Yank, Brit, and Kinnuck troops will advance, and by what anticipated dates. But as for us, we'll save those forecasting details for later. Three days later, on April 10th, American bombers begin hitting the Normandy coast. Orders state that for every battery bombed in the actual landing area, two have to be bombed in different areas to keep up the ruse of an unknown target. Yes, the deception continues.

and as a result, the Nazis remain convinced the real blow is coming at Pad de Calais. Many of these raids cause civilian casualties. For instance, on April 24th, a daylight raid on Rourin hits the town's center instead of the railway yards. Allied leaders begin to ask whether the transportation plan is worth it. And Ike is nervous. The Supreme Allied commander writes to George Marshall on April 17th, saying, Our problems are seemingly intricate and difficult beyond belief. All of us realize that tremendous stakes are heaped up on the outcome of the impending operation.

And it's about to get a whole lot more complicated, especially when Allied fire lands, not on French civilians, but on some of the 1.4 million American troops training in Britain. It's about 7.30 a.m., April 27, 1944. We're on the coast of southwestern England at Slapton-Sands Beach, an odd name for three miles of pebble and shingle. But what matters is its position between the saltwater English Channel and freshwater slapped in lay, a natural dynamic that makes it eerily similar to Normandy's Utah Beach. It's because of those natural dynamics that all local residents have been evacuated so that 30,000 American troops, still in the dark on what or when they're training for, can do a shore-storming dress rehearsal today.

In the likely foggy hours of this early English morning, Members of the U.S. 4th Infantry approach the beach and landing craft. They hear the sound of a bombardment. To make the exercise more realistic, their leaders were told. The beach even has concrete pillboxes to mimic what the Nazis have set up. Wearing their ivy leaf green patch on their sleeve, carrying barracks bags and weapons slung over their shoulders and carbon dioxide inflatable life belts around their waists,

the Americans disembarked from the landing craft, splashing into the chilly waters of the channel and making the way up the beach. Then, all of a sudden, an artillery shell comes directly at a young soldier on shore. He's killed immediately. Wait, what the hell? This is a training mission. The troops on the beach try to get word to those at sea. Call off the bombardment!

But it's no use. That's the British heavy cruiser, HMS Hawkins, firing live shells at Slapton's insane. and she's supposed to be. Originally, she was supposed to do this an hour ago at 6.30, leaving 30 minutes for wardens to check the beach and make sure no unexploded ordinance would injure American troops when they landed at 7.30. When some of the landing craft fell behind schedule,

Rear Admiral Don Moon of the U.S. Navy pushed the landing, or H-hour, out to 8.30. This in turn moved the bombardment out to 7.30 with it. The Admiral sent a message communicating this. HMS Hawkins received it and adjusted. But the Americans' lead landing craft never did. That mix-up now has a British warship firing right as those on-time-turned early soldiers land.

It's chaos, carnage. And yet, this deadly-friendly fire bombardment isn't the end of exercise tiger's horrors. Somewhere close to midnight and the early dark hours of the next morning, April 20, 8th, German e-boats hit one of the Allied convoys. How many Americans die across the two days, we still can't say. The military keeps it that quiet.

But between Slapton Sands and the Battle of Lime Bay, as the German attack is known, death tolls are often cited in excess of 700. Yet, despite those losses of life, Exercise Fabius, another training maneuver at Slapton Sands for troops heading to Omaha Beach, happens just four days later. By early May, leaders have determined that the men are as trained as they will ever be. Assault troops return to their marshalling areas to await instructions. Meanwhile, Winston Churchill is worrying about Allied bombings on French railways, taking innocent lives.

With the War Cabinet proposing a ceiling of no more than 150 civilians killed by any bombing, Winston raises the issue with Ike. On May 2, the Supreme Allied Commander writes in response, I have throughout realized the political considerations arising from the inevitable casualties to French civilian personnel caused by the attack on the enemy's rail transportation system. I must point out that casualties to civilian personnel are inherent in any plan for the full use of air power to prepare for our assault. I fully appreciate the gravity of the issues raised. I have modified my plan as far as possible without.

vitiating its value. In other words, Ike hears the concern, but this is war, and he can't accept a ceiling. That night, the War Cabinet debates it. Winston states that he doesn't want to interfere

with military preparations on political grounds, but he hastens to add, I have not fully realized that the use of air power in overlord would assume such a cruel and remorseless form. Truly, he is not comfortable with these civilian deaths.

French civilian deaths. You know, he doesn't say it. But I can't help thinking back to episode 200 and wondering, is this giving the British Bulldog painful flashbacks of that day in 1940? When? On his orders, the Royal Navy sent 1,299 French sailors to their graves? Winston presses the matter with an appeal to FDA. are. On May 7th, he writes that,

The war cabinet have been much concerned during the last three weeks about the number of Frenchmen killed in the raids on the railway centers in France. But Franklin, too, sees this as the ugly necessity of war, and Winston realizes there's nothing more to be done. The American president has spoken, and as Winston will later write, This was decisive. Settling for the hope of no more than 10. thousand French dead, the British Bulldog asks Air Chief Marshal Arthur Teter to keep him posted on the score. And so, preparations continue with the official D-Day set for either June 5th to 7th or the 18th to 20th,

depending on tides and moonlight. While the Allies are training, German field marshal Irwin Rommel continues to shore up his shoreline defenses. The Desert Fox has decided that the Wehrmacht cannot maneuver on like terms with the combined Anglo-American forces, so they have to dig into natural points of defense. He adds to the Atlantic Wall, layering it with pillboxes, entrenchments, Belgian gates, that is, steel barriers, log ramps, mined stakes, hedgehogs, think steel anti-tink obstacles, barbed wire, machine, machines, gun pits, and yet more both underwater and on the sand, all to combat the incoming invasion, whenever and wherever that may be. And much of these fortifications, like the Rommel's Asparagus, as his men call the logs protruding into the sky to wreck gliders and paratroopers,

are his own decision. Adolf Hitler only wanted the concrete Atlantic Wall, while the Desert Fox is superior, field marshal and commander in the west, Gert von Hunstetz, didn't advocate for this many traps. He's anticipating a battle inland with panzers instead. The Desert Fox wants all of this done by April 30th, 1944, but the magnitude of the task makes that deadline a pipe dream. By the first week of June, only five or six million mines of Irwin's estimated necessary 50 million to properly defend have been laid.

To his credit, more than half a million obstacles lie in six-foot water for high tides and half-tides. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Still in May, 1944, new German divisions are reaching their defensive positions along the Shebrugroup Peninsula. Little did the Nazis know, Allied codebreakers catch much of this movement, and Allied reconnaissance has mapped the coastal fortifications too. No blind landings, a lesson learned the hard way in the Pacific. But the picture isn't flawless either, as we'll see next time. On May 5th, the German High Command manages to listen in on a conversation between FDR and Winston Churchill. They know an attack is in the works, but they can't figure out what, where or when.

FDR concludes the overheard phone call with, Well, we will do our best. Now, I'll go fishing. Ah, Franklin. calm and sunk as ever, even in the final weeks before D-Day. Three days later, May 8th, the Allies decrypt a message from Irwin to German High Command that says the bombings have disrupted his supply and troop movements. The Allies find more reassurance the next week from their best unwitting source.

The Japanese baron and longtime ambassador in Berlin, Oshima Hiroshi. The Germans have had Oshima out to France. He's toward the Atlantic Wall. His intercepted messages back home are so valuable, George C. Marshall later describes the Japanese ambassador as, quote, our main basis of information regarding Hitler's intentions in Europe. Close quote.

On May 13th, Woshima Radio's Tokyo with what Admiral Carl Dunnets has told him that the Allies cannot invade, quote unquote, for some time. Well, if that's what the Nazis think, How perfect is that? Meanwhile, Supreme Allied Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower sends a message to senior U.S. commanders the following day, May 14th. It is necessary to make absolutely clear to our men the stark and elemental facts as to the character of our Nazi enemy, the absolute need for crushing him if we are to survive.

What is required now is to impress on them that only hard and successful fighting will bring victory. And that the way home is via Berlin. Keep that do-or-die sentiment in mind. It will echo in the weeks to come. With only weeks to go, training only intensifies for Allied soldiers. As BBC One war correspondent, Robert Dunnett reports, When I lived with American troops in one of the barracks,

they played interminable and terrific games of volleyball and football and baseball. Then suddenly, one morning, the square. instead of being full of racing figures, were dotted with heaps of equipment in long lines. The men stood by their individual piles with their helmets and rifles and their life belts around their waists. On May 15th, Allied leaders

still preparing for the hundreds of different ways in which everything could go wrong, once again returned to St. Paul's School, London. Some 150 guests sit on crowded wooden benches behind a single row of chairs at the front reserved for King George VI. Winston Churchill, Field Marshal and Prime Minister of South Africa at Jan Smuts, and Sir Alan Brook, who serves as Winston's chief military advisor.

They face the stage where a map of the Normandy beaches and surrounding area is tilted at an angle for all to see. As I will later note, during the whole war, I attended no other conference so packed with rank as this one. Winston's talk includes an oft-quoted phrase, gentlemen, I am hardening on this operation. In his memoir, Ike takes it to mean that the British Bulldog has finally come around to the necessity of the cross-channel attack.

But Winston takes issue with this in his later book. He'd never been against the operation, he says. By hardening, he meant he wished to strike, to quote him. If humanly possible, even if the limiting conditions we lay down are not exactly fulfilled. Huh. One phrase, two very different takes. That's history for you.

By now, the Germans in Western Europe know they're spread thin. And so do the Allies. Irwin keeps asking for troops to help cover Normandy and Brittany. His requests aren't granted because, as he'll later write, for fears of a possible enemy airborne landing in the neighborhood of Paris. Captain Eberhard Bergman, staff officer of the 21st Panzer Division, will later recall,

be a conscious that neither our men nor our tanks were good enough. As for the Allies, decrypted messages between the Desert Fox and the High Command reveal that divisions are short men, tanks, and other weapons. Entering late May, the preparatory bombings and French resistance-led sabotage continue. On May 28th, American Bulls, American bombers raid German synthetic oil plants.

That night, British bombers take out the concrete fortifications as Saint-Matan de Valleville, overlooking the invasion beaches. But the raids on the railway marshalling yards are another matter. In 48 hours, they kill 3,000 French civilians. Winston, as we know, is sick about it. He writes to his Foreign Secretary that, "'Terrible things are being done,' and tells Air Chief Marshal Teter plainly,

You are piling up an awful lot of hatred. But hatred or not, it's working. That same day, bombers destroy the German naval wireless station at Chateau-Talinden near Bruges. And with it, German intelligence's best chance of hearing the surge in allied radio traffic that could give the whole thing away. Subordinate commanders are informed D-Day is June 5th. Personnel are sealed in their ships or at their camp or assembly points.

Mail is impounded and private messages are forbidden except for emergencies. Interestingly, had Germany bombed the southern coast of England at this time, much of the Allied attack force would have been wiped out. Aside from their engagements in April's Exercise Tiger and May's mini-air raid on an ordinance battalion, the Nazis mostly leave British land alone. On May 30th, Ike reminds his combined chiefs of staff that the Germans overestimate the strength of our seaborne assault. The enemy is also in ignorance of the dependence we place on mulberries and therefore tends to garrison lightly terrain which is critical to us. I therefore request the utmost security on these matters.

To preserve the utmost security for these forces and these mulberries or prefab artificial harbors, The first troops are loaded onto ships and landing craft the very next day, May 31st. Aboard one sealed ship, technical sergeant Richard T. Wright, the U.S. Marine from Arlington, Virginia, writes in his diary that one of his shipmates, a Royal Marine named J.T. Wend, has assumed the role of General Manager of Buckees Incorporated with a, to quote him, grim sense of humor. JT's passed out a second front handicap form with odds on the ship's future in the upcoming invasion. It reads in part, five to two that this ship will be sunk by shore batteries, four to one that we will be sunk by dive bombers,

eight to one that we will be hit by a mine, last but not least, two to one that we don't get back at all. I wish I could tell you the payout now, but that will just have to wait for the next episode. Because the first five days of June are action-packed. Here's a rundown. June 1st, Ike writes to George C. Marshall that, quote, weather forecasts, while still indefinite, are generally favorable. Barring unsuitable meteorological conditions,

we will do the trick as scheduled, close quote. That same day, the BBC broadcasts the first few lines of French poet Paul Verlain's Chanson Doughton. This signals to the French resistance to stand by to cut railways. June 2nd, Field Marshal, Gelt von Hustetz, tells Berlin that the Allies would need four days of consecutive good weather to mountain attack. Therefore, it cannot happen the first week of June. Allied troops set sail for Normandy. June 3rd, once again, Ike writes to George Marshall,

weather prospects so far as sea conditions are concerned are rather favorable. From an air viewpoint, the forecasts are not yet firm, but we have almost an even chance of having pretty fair conditions. In any event, I should say that only marked deterioration beyond that now expected would disarrange our plans. But as Ike writes, one Scottish meteorologist, group captain James Stagg, predicts bad weather will fall in the fifth. Weather so atrocious that this amphibious attack cannot proceed.

Worse still, the Associated Press mistakenly broadcasts that the attack has begun. They rescind five minutes later. June 4th, at 0.400 hours, Allied leaders review James' weather forecast and decide to postpone the invasion. Ships already at sea are recalled. Two hours later, 0600, Erwin Rommel heads to Germany to be back in time for his wife's birthday on the sixth. In the evening, American troops reach Rome. Winston telegraphs his dear friend and American counterpart, Franklin Roosevelt. How magnificently your troops have fought.

Meanwhile, Charles de Gaulle arrives from Algiers, a voyage at Winston's invitation, but without explanation. The British PM later explains that, I told De Gaul that I'd asked him to come because of the forthcoming operation. I could not do this by telegraph, and I felt that the history of our two countries required the liberation of France must not be undertaken by the British and Americans without the French being informed. At 2130 hours, armed with the information that the weather might break on June 6th, the Allied High Command meets in the Library of Southwick House. After much back and forth, Ike announces his decision. I'm quite positive we must give the order. I don't like it, but there it is. I don't see how we can possibly do anything else.

June 5th, just after midnight, the commanders meet once more to confirm Ike's decision. Hours pass. Then, as Winston later describes, At 4 a.m. on June 5th, the die was irrevocably cast. The invasion would be launched on June 6th. At 0,600 hours, ships once. again set out across the English Channel, or to rely one more time on Winston's eloquence. The greatest armada that ever left our shores and set out for the coast of France.

At 1100 hours, CBS New York announces, up in Western Europe, we've been plastering the German defenses near the Channel coast for days. Still no hint as to when the great invasion will begin. The Germans likely wonder the same thing. Bad weather has grounded their air reconnaissance teams. At 1830 hours, the BBC broadcasts seemingly nonsensical phrases. He fe show a suez. Later still, more verses from Paul Verlain's poem. Picked up on radios across France, these and other phrases are delivering marching orders to the French resistance, ready to risk everything to

rid their nation of Nazism. British bombers strike at the 10 most important German gun batteries with 5,000 tons of bombs. Deception operations are launched, including dummy paratroopers and the jamming and spoofing of German radar. At 20-30 hours, Ike decides to visit the U.S. 1001st Airborne Division before they leave for France. At 2,200 hours, the 15th German army hears the code word that means an invixtive. invasion is imminent. But field marshal, Gert von Hüchstens, makes a deeply impactful decision. He chooses not to alert the whole front. But let's leave the Germans with that decision for now,

and head back to England to catch Ike's visit with what will likely be the first American troops on French soil. It's 20-30 hours, June 5th, 1944. We're at the U.S. 101st Airborne's Base in Green in common, England, where Dwight D. Eisenhower is visiting these American paratroopers, who will likely be among the first to land in France on D-Day. Ike steps out of his car with his secretary, Kay Somersby, and some other military officers and photographers. The Supreme Allied commander steps over packs, guns, and other equipment to greet the men of Company E, 500-second parachute infantry regiment, standing at attention in their full battle gear.

Ike approaches a man in the line. What's your name, Lieutenant? And where are you from? Wearing a helmet covered in netting, camouflage on his face, and the cardboard number 23 around his neck. The platoon leader of Company E replies, Strobel, from Michigan, sir. Ike answers. Oh, yes, Michigan. Great fish in there.

Been there several times that like it. He then asks the young officer, first, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Wallace C. Strobel if he's ready for the mission. Yes, sir. The Michigander emphatically responds. The camera flashes capturing the moment between the Supreme Allied commander and the lieutenant, with other members of the company surrounding the two men. What a way for Wallace to celebrate his 22nd birthday.

Ike remains at Greenham Common until midnight, when all the paratroopers have taken off. Undoubtedly, he feels the heavy burden of knowing many of the brave, and young men he just met won't be coming home. Knowing the stakes tomorrow brings, Ike drives back under the roar of planes as they light up Southern England's sky. He places a note in his wallet, something he's written in the event that the worst-case scenario happens.

Exhausted? He's dated the note. July 5th. Truly, Ike is as human as the rest of us. But the response, He willingly shoulders in this note is divine. It reads,

Our landings in the Shebrug-Avra area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold, and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy, did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.

That's right. If this fails, Ike is ready to take the blame. All of it. Fair or not, all of it. Because that's what true leaders do. But more than that, as a true leader, these are thoughts Ike keeps to the inside of his wallet. These are not the thoughts he shares with his men. The thousands of soon-to-be invading Allied troops crossing the channel,

be that in landing craft or aircraft, go forth feeling the full faith and confidence of their commander as they read or hear General Dwight D. Eisenhower's orders. And those inspiring, encouraging words, read as follows. Soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force. You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade. toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people

everywhere march with you. In company with our brave allies and brothers in arms on other fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. Your task will not be in.

easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped, and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely. But this is the year 1944. Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940 to 41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans' great defeats, an open battle man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our home fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned. The free men of the world are marching together to victory.

I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory. Good luck. And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God. Upon this great and noble undertaking. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Riley Bauer. Riley and I are incredibly grateful to Andrew Whitmarsh,

curator of the D-Day Story Museum in Portsmouth, England. We thank his team as well as those at the Portsmouth History Center for welcoming us into their institutions at helping as we research this episode. We encourage listeners to visit the D-Day. story should you ever find yourself on that side of the pond production by airship audio editing by mohammed shazade sound design by molly bach music composed by greg jackson arrangement and additional composition by lindsay graham of airship for a bibliography hall primary and secretary sources consulted in writing this episode visit htdspodcast.com htdd s is supported by fans at hddspodcast.com slash membership my gratitude to kind souls providing funding

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