| 
		
		     Full of youthful vigor that so often compels young men to seek 
		adventure and excitement, Dr. Ralph Boroughs, Lander College professor 
		of science education, was inducted into the Army during World War II 
		along with his whole class at The Citadel. He volunteered for the 
		paratroopers and 15 months later was in a transport plane preparing to 
		parachute into Nazi-occupied Holland. 
		
		 The time was Sept. 17, 1944, roughly three 
		months after the allied invasion of Europe, known as D-Day, had swept 
		across France and begun the final thrust into Belgium and Holland. The 
		mission Boroughs was involved in, with the exception of D-Day, it has 
		been called one of the most "daring" and "historic" operations under-
		taken in World War II. It had been dubbed operation Market-Garden, 
		and its objective was to punch a hole through Holland, opening the way 
		for Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery's tanks to move on to the 
		conquest of Hitler's Germany. Much later, Hollywood would make a movie 
		based on this operation; it would star Scan Connery and Laurence Olivier 
		and would be called "A Bridge Too Far." 
		
		     After nearly four decades, Boroughs has 
		begun to dust off his memories and reflect again upon experiences like 
		operation Market-Garden, memories he himself admits to having lain to 
		rest. 
		
		     "I don't know why I hadn't thought more 
		about those times," he said. "I guess I had just put that period of my 
		life behind me and gone on to other things." 
		
		     Boroughs says the memories were 
		reactivated last Christmas Eve when he and his family got together to 
		celebrate the holiday. It all started when he uttered the words: "I 
		remember a Christmas Eve 39 years ago." Encouraged by his children and 
		grandchildren to continue the tale, he told them of that grim 
		Christmas, one he and a fellow soldier spent burying a comrade who had 
		fallen shortly before, during the Battle of the Belgian Bulge. 
		
		     But once opened, the floodgate of 
		memories refused to be closed again. "My children suggested that I write 
		down the things that I told them," Boroughs said. "But, once I started, 
		I couldn't stop." 
		
		     He has recorded 35 stories of memories 
		from the one and a half years he spent in the Army as a paratrooper 
		during World War II. He has written of laying mine fields, checking 
		bodies which had been booby-trapped by the enemy, of seeing death in its 
		most gruesome and revolting form, of the fear men feel knowing that 
		life could end at any moment. The book of memories also contains some 
		lighter moments such as his story which follows: | 
		
		Sunny-side Up 
		
		     It was mid-afternoon when we jumped into 
		Holland. We suffered no casualties from our brief scrimmages during and 
		after landing. Little Car Austin thought I had taken a hit. As I jumped 
		ahead of Austin, he saw me float through a patch of ack-ack smoke and 
		upon assembling, he saw blood on my face and combat jacket. Where did 
		the blood come from? 
		     
		Since we were being shot at in the air and 
		shot at after hitting the ground, I didn't take time to unhook my 
		parachute. I hurriedly hacked it off with my jump knife. In the process 
		I cut my finger slightly, but I bled like a stuck hog and generously 
		smeared my blood around. 
		
		    The 30-odd prisoners we captured were 
		used to help pack our demolition equipment to Nijmegen. Our mission was 
		to find the main highway leading south out of the city and set up a road 
		block. It was just getting dark when we found the spot. Trees lined the 
		road with deep ditches on either side. Charges of C-2 were places on 
		four trees, two on each side of the road. The trees fell perfectly 
		across the road as planned. We set up positions on the south side of the 
		road block for the rest of the night. It was a 
		
		weird night, pitch black so you couldn't see your hand in front of your 
		face, but the sounds were ominous — footsteps on the other side of the 
		fallen trees. We lay silently on our side unseen and undetected. 
		
		     During the middle of the night we heard 
		a train steam up. The second demolition section had the 
		assignment of blowing the main railroad track out of the city. As 
		the train started moving, we could hear it getting faster and faster.   
		Finally   when it seemed to have reached a full head of steam, we heard 
		the explosion. The second section must have accomplished its mission. 
		
		     
		We 
		later learned that the train 
		
		was hit by a bazooka.) 
		    
		
		
		The third section was not so lucky. They ran into a group 
		of sharp shooters who almost wiped them out. One of the survivors told 
		us that Lt. Joseph Duffy, leader of the section, was killed with a 
		bullet right between the eyes. 
		    
		
		
		The next morning in the light of day, civilians came out 
		of their houses to see what caused the explosions during the night. 
		They were overjoyed when they found out we were Americans. One man spoke 
		English and asked, "What can I do to help?" We had jumped with only K 
		rations so we asked for food. The man went back in his house and in 
		short order came out with eggs, sunny-side up. 
		    
		
		
		As Boroughs began recording incidents such as "Sunny-side 
		Up," he found that because of the great length of time between the 
		events of which he writes and the present, there was a problem with 
		being accurate. "After I started writing last year," he said, "I 
		realized that many of the names and places were no longer with me, and I 
		had to seek information from other sources, people I had lost contact 
		with years ago." | 
		    
		
		
		One of those sources was South Carolina Sen. Strom 
		Thurmond. Recalling that Thurmond had been in a glider unit connected 
		with the 82nd Airborne Division during World War II, Boroughs wrote him 
		requesting information. It was through Thurmond's office that he learned 
		of an organization called the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment (PIR) 
		Association. The 508th was part of the 82nd Airborne Division, and it 
		was to Headquarters Company of the 508th that Boroughs had been attached 
		during the war. From the PIR Association, he received a roster listing 
		some of the men he had fought beside during the War. With the roster, 
		Boroughs was able to get in touch with people from his old unit who 
		could provide him with the information he would need.    
		
		
		But the roster has led Boroughs td more than mere 
		information. He is now an active member of several veteran paratroopers 
		groups and has attended some reunions. 
		    
		
		
		"It was good to see the men again," Boroughs said of the 
		reunion last year. "And although we were able to 
		remember a great many things together, many of our recollections of the 
		same events did not match." 
		    
		
		
		Still the professor says the reunion was one he felt glad 
		to attend. The organizations he is now a member of will meet each year 
		in a different state, and Boroughs says he plans to attend each one, but 
		he adds, "Finding that many of us have died, it gives us a sense of 
		urgency to know that if those of us left want to see each other again, 
		we'd better hurry." 
		
		     
		
		For Boroughs, writing about these memories, which he must 
		hurry to discuss with the men he shares them with, has had far greater 
		significance than the mere preservation of past events. He has renewed 
		friendships which were so important during the war and perhaps gained 
		a better insight into the past and future by recording them and making 
		contact with the men he knew so long ago on the cold fields of war. 
		
		     
		 Paratroopers
 
		
		[Front, l-r Lt. Donald W. "Ripper" Hardwick, Lt Charles A. YatesStanding, Edwin A, Luczaj, Zig Boroughs, Harold Gerkin]
 
		
		Lander College professor of science education Dr. Ralph 
		Boroughs, center rear, with men of the 508th during the Holland 
		campaign. Active in several veterans' groups, he is now recording his 
		memories of World War II. (Lander College photo) Source: The Index-Journal. Greenwood, SC, Tuesday, 
		December 11, 1984 |