The Harry Kennedy Story
(Or "Tunder" he Said, and
My Adrenaline Overflowed)

   This is a true story of a naive, brave, young man. My favorite story of WWII.
   Harry was born Hahns Kahn in Germany in 1924. His parents were Jewish. For reasons I do not know he was placed in an orphanage at a very young age. He was then adopted by German Jewish parents. Harry never knew his real parents. His adoptive father was a successful businessman owning some type of an importing business headquartered in Switzerland.
   Harry's early childhood was normal and happy until Hitler started his hate campaign against Jews. Jumping forward to Nov. 9, 1938, the date of Kristallnacht (Crystal Night): so called because Germans went on a rampage of ransacking Jewish homes, businesses, synagogues, and other Jewish institutions, filling the streets with the broken fine Jewish crystal and glassware. Other valuable possessions including books, art works, fine furniture, etc. were smashed and burned.
   Harry's father was astute enough to see the war on Judaism was increasing. He made plans to smuggle Harry out of Germany before it was too late. He had distance relatives in the United States who agreed to accept Harry. Through his contacts in the import business he arranged to smuggle Harry through Switzerland and Italy to a ship bound for New York. At this time Harry was about 15 years old. The father went to his headquarters in Switzerland and summoned his wife and Harry to join him. The father still had his papers to travel unrestricted. When Harry and his mother arrived at the Swiss border on the train, his mother was arrested by the German guards. Harry never saw her again. Presumably she was a victim of the holocaust. For some unknown reason Harry was allowed to continue. His father met him and had him transported to Italy, the ship and on to New York.
   Harry was met in New York by his new family and immediately placed in school. He had an agile mind and very quickly picked up the English language. He did have a heavy German accent. He successfully completed high school and joined the army. He volunteered for the paratroopers and joined us at Camp McCall, North Carolina in August 1942. Because of his command of the German language he was put in the Regimental intelligence section to act as an interpreter. When Harry joined the army, his name was changed from Hans Kahn to Harry Kennedy in case he should be captured by the enemy. His dog tags bore the name Kennedy.
   We were engrossed with Harry because of his background. He was shy and somewhat aloof. We tried very hard to make him feel accepted but were unsuccessful. He refused to go out with us to get drunk and chase girls like most GI's. We invited him many times but to no avail We thought that rather strange. Now that I have matured some, I see he wasn't all wrong.
   Harry did have a girlfriend he had met in New York. He called her “Teddy Bear.” They corresponded frequently. He adored her. He had no problem showing his love and discussing her attributes with us. All was well until about two months before we left to go overseas. Harry received a “dear John” letter. Teddy Bear had met someone else and thought it best that she and Harry break it off. Harry was devastated. I thought he was going into shock. He cried a lot. I became very dubious that he was suitable for combat. I felt uncomfortable depending on him in a hostile situation. After all, mature males don't come apart when jilted by a girlfriend. Soldiers don't cry, particularly hardened Paratroopers. I could be wrong, and as it turned out I was.
   In December, 1942, he seemed to accept the situation. You know the old adage: time heals all wounds. He still refused to go out with us in the big city for one last fling before we left the country.
   After a short stopover in North Ireland for two months, we moved to Nottingham, England. By then Harry was becoming a real American GI. He started going to the English Pubs with us and enjoying the companionship of the English girls. Except for his accent you would think he was a natural born American soldier.
   Moving forward to D-Day. The entire Regimental S-2 Section was in the same plane. We took off about 10:00 PM, June 5, flew several hours to rendezvous with other planes of the Regiment, and then headed to the continent. As we crossed the shoreline of Normandy we met intense anti-aircraft fire. Although we were flying low and slow, the Germans could not see us because of the low cloud cover. They were firing at the sound of the engines.

 P.S. As I wrote this, remembering my earlier statement that hardened Paratroopers don't cry. Guess what: this one did.

Jody Lander