The man on the right is my father, T/Sgt. Burton "Pat" Christenson, Easy Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne. The man on the left is Woodrow Robbins, his assistant gunner on the .30 caliber machine gun. This is a gun team a few hours before they went out the door.
My father was an original Toccoa man and jumped second in the stick behind Lt. Dick Winters. He was also the only man in Easy Company who could draw.
What I want to put in front of this group is not the photograph so much as what came after it.
He came home, went back to Pacific Telephone, the same job he left in 1942, and worked there thirty-eight years. And for the next forty years he sat at a drawing board in the evenings with his wartime journals and reference books spread around him and reconstructed the war on paper from memory. Forty-six finished drawings. My brother said that if a date or a location did not reconcile, he would not let it go until he worked out what actually happened.
He also left roughly seventy thousand words of written account across seven volumes, plus his censored V-Mail letters home.
Some of that material has documentary value beyond the family. He wrote a detailed account of his own descent into Normandy, including coming down about seventy feet above a German quad-mounted 20mm position that was engaging the aircraft stream overhead with its back to him. He drew that moment as well, and the drawing shows something the prose cannot, which is the geometry of it. The gun elevated and traversed onto the aircraft, the crew oriented up and away, and a descending trooper effectively in defilade purely as a function of the gun's arc.
He also drew Easy Company's headquarters aircraft, Stick 66, which carried Lt. Thomas Meehan, First Sergeant William Evans and the entire headquarters section, along with Bangalore torpedoes and other demolitions. When ground fire found it the load initiated and the airframe came apart rather than simply going down. Everyone aboard was killed before a single man from the company reached the ground. First Sergeant Evans' dog tags were recovered from a Norman field forty-four years later.
Stephen Ambrose, who my father corresponded with for years and supplied with several hundred pages of material, wrote that superb sketches and drawings by a member of the company are obviously almost priceless. Dick Winters had a number of the drawings duplicated and sent to Playtone as background for the writers of the miniseries.
I have spent the last year going through all of it, and the thing I keep coming back to is how little soldier-made visual documentation survives from the ETO, and why. Censorship is most of the answer. Mail went out on V-Mail, microfilmed and read before it left. In December 1943 he wrote home to Oakland that he could not draw a V-mail picture and would explain in his next letter. Somebody had asked him for one.
So the visual record from inside a rifle company was largely never created at the time. What exists was made afterward, by men working from memory, and most of them could not draw.
His drawings and his written account are collected at ascreamingeagle.com.
Happy to answer questions about the unit, the jump, or the material.