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<em>Turner Mason Chambliss, Jr.,</em> the son of Colonel and Mrs. Turner Mason Chambliss, was born at Walter Reed General Hospital, Washington, D. C. on the 15th of July 1921. He was the great-grandson of Brigadier General John R. Chambliss (Confederate Army), U.S.M.A. 1853, who lost his life near Richmond, Virginia on August 16th, 1864. Until Turner’s entrance at West Point, he lived with his father and mother at the following military posts: Fort Benning, Georgia; Fort Washington, Maryland; Fort Leavenworth, Kansas; Honolulu; Schofield Barracks; Washington, D. C.; Fort Thomas, Kentucky; and Fort Sam Houston, Texas. After graduation with honors from Jefferson High School, San Antonio, Texas in June 1938 Turner entered Millard’s West Point Preparatory School in July of the same year. Upon the completion of the preparatory course at Millard’s he competed for a Presidential appointment to enter West Point. Through his untiring efforts and determination to follow in the footsteps of his father and great-grandfather he entered West Point on July 1, 1939 as a Presidential appointee.</p>
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Before Turner entered High School, he had a great desire to go to West Point and eventually to be an officer in the Infantry, United States Army. He knew what he wanted and went after it with determination. He was like many other Army “brat” about the military service and to be a graduate of West Point—the idea of being an officer in the Army dominated his mind and soul early in life. As doggedly as he had done other things before entering West Point, and as doggedly as he fought before a German sniper’s bullet put an abrupt end to his military career, he was determined that his should be an Army career, and he set out to reach that, goal. The good news of his winning a Presidential appointment was received at Fort Sam Houston in May 1939 from friends of Turner’s father.</p>
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Later an official communication from the War Department confirmed the unofficial reports, and it was then that Turner said, “Now, Dad, it’s in the bag” That was a very happy day for the entire family, as we were all so happy that Turner had at last gained his ambition in life—an appointment to the United States Military Academy at West Point.</p>
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It was on July 1, 1939 that Turner entered upon the duties of a cadet at the United States Military Academy. Many of his high school and Army friends entered at the same time. Of all these friends, he was assigned a roommate—Charles Calvert Benedict—who lost his life late in 1944 over Mukden, and they roomed together for the rest of their time at West Point, and became the best of friends. Turner’s life at West Point was that of the average American boy of a military background at that great institution. There were things that he liked and there were things that he disliked—just as would any other boy. Plebe and yearling years passed without incident, but there arrived Second Class year and then the war was on in earnest in Europe and in the Pacific. In the summer, between Second and First Class years, Turner elected to take air training. So to Uvalde, Texas, he went with quite a number of his classmates. He completed primary training at that training school and later was advanced to Basic training at Randolph Field. Turner never wanted to be a pilot, but merely wanted to learn how to fly an airplane. His heart was set on being an Infantryman. With six hours left in his Basic flying, he was informed that he would have to make a decision as to whether or not he would like to finish the air training or return to West Point. This was in September 1942. The decision was to return to West Point and enter the Infantry after graduation in January 1943. In a telegram to his father from Randolph Field in early September he said: “Dad, I have made up my mind and I am returning to West Point to get ready for the Infantry”. That was most commendable of him and his parents were so proud that he would, voluntarily, follow in his father’s footsteps as an Infantryman. So, on January 19, 1943 he graduated along with 412 other American boys—ready to enter a war which meant death to so many of these fine young soldiers. While at West Point, Turner was not a star in athletics, but was a member of the track team and the swimming team.</p>
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After graduation from West Point on January 19, 1943, Turner, after a brief visit with his parents at Columbia, South Carolina, reported to the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia for his three months course of Infantry training before joining a combat Division for service overseas. These three months passed without incident. The training was hard and rough, but exactly what young graduates from West Point needed to lead troops into battle against our enemies. With all the rigorous training at the Infantry School, Turner always found time to participate in athletics, such as tennis, track and swimming. About three weeks before graduation from the Infantry School he became interested in Parachute Training, and in a letter to his parents, he said that if no objections were voiced he would remain at the Infantry School for a four weeks course in jumping. Of course, there were no objections from any one and his course started about May 5, 1943 and ended about June 5th of the same year. He accepted this rigorous parachute training with all the interest that he had manifested in other things in life. He was in splendid physical condition at the beginning of the course, so he breezed through the rough training in great style. Many of Turner’s friends used to say that he would finish his daily duties and then go out to play a few sets of tennis or take a swim. Before this course ended he was “sold” on the paratroopers and wanted to get an assignment overseas at once, that is, with a division leaving for the fighting front as soon as possible. He was assigned to the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment which was later integrated into the 101st Airborne Division. He joined this famous regiment and division while they were on maneuvers in Tennessee. It was during these maneuvers that he became absolutely “sold” on the idea of airborne troops. He would often write his father that he could not understand why a paratrooper should get extra compensation as it was so much fun to jump. He was always happy with his paratrooper friends, both officers and men. After maneuvers in Tennessee were over he proceeded to Fort Bragg, N. C. for preparation for overseas movement. While at Bragg he was able to visit his family in Columbia several times before embarking for England in early September 1943.</p>
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It was in September 1943 when Turner went to England with his beloved Paratroop Platoon of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment. And it was in England where he received his final training to combat the Germans. One year from the date of his death, his sister Betty Wilson Chambliss, now Mrs. Maylon T. Scott, received a letter from one of Turner’s dear friends of the 506th—Captain Jim Morton. In that letter he had the following to say about Turner’s stay in England: “We were located in an English town called Ramsbury. It is situated between two downs of the lush Wiltshire countryside, some 60 miles from London. Ramsbury was picturesque, a storybook village with thatch-roofed cottages, doll sized shops, cheery taverns and an ancient church. The stone church, which had a belfry with four Gothic spires, was built in 909 A.D., and it was dramatic to see twentieth century paratroopers worship where knights had knelt in prayer a thousand years ago. Turner and I attended this church on Sundays. Often on a bright afternoon we’d go for a walk along the River Kennet, through green meadows and wooded glens, according to the caprice of the stream. Turner liked to watch trout venture from the shadows under the banks to linger in sunlit waters. We both were nature lovers, and got to know each other well during our ramblings in the English countryside. Some of us were billeted in an historic mansion known as Parliament Piece. It was built on a brow of high ground and dominated the village. Once Sir Guy Wybaliam lived there, and his widow maintained her residence in the old house. We lived on the third floor, what you would call the garret. Turner shared a room with Tom Kennedy (Lt. Tom Kennedy who was Turner’s second in command of his platoon). The rest of us lived in rooms in the same mansion. All of us in ‘G’ Company were together, you see, and there was a fine comradeship. We worked and played hard, getting the most out of each moment. Turner told me that he never was as happy as when he was with our band of paratroopers. And all of us liked Turner. During the chill English night we ‘G’ Company officers would gather in my room and brew coffee over an old electric stove. We’d make toast, too, which we ate with jam gleefully stolen from the kitchen. Turner, Joe Doughty, Van Antwerp (Company Commander) and I always had our bedtime coffee. Often we’d talk until the late hours. Turner enjoyed a good argument, particularly with me. We debated by the hour, and that’s where I learned your brother had character and a splendid mentality. All of us knew that Turner had a bottle of burgundy in his footlocker. We tried tirelessly to get Turner to open the bottle, but he said that he was saving it for a particular occasion. Nothing we’d say could persuade Turner to part with the burgundy. We wheedled, argued, threatened, and tried to shame him into sharing this fine burgundy with us. But Turner was adamant. One morning late in May we were notified this would be our last day in Ramsbury. That night Turner produced his burgundy. We assembled solemnly in our little garret room and raised glasses in toasts. ‘When shall we drink together again’ I asked. We looked at each other, knowing that this was the last drink for some of us. Captain Van Antwerp, our company commander, said: ‘dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you; it’s just the last thing’. I will, always, think of Ramsbury as a sort of shrine, Betty, where once lived a gallant band of paratroopers, whose bonds were courage, leadership, and common purpose. Your brother was one of my best friends in the airborne. I don’t know any better way we can honor him and all those heroic men who died than to remember the cause for which they laid down their lives and to keep fighting for that cause as long as we live”.</p>
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On June 6, 1944 our armies crossed the English Channel to gain a beach head, and later to defeat Hitler’s Armies in mid 1945. It was the night of June 5-6, 1944 that Turner (now a First Lieutenant and Platoon Commander of the Second Platoon, Company “G”, 506 Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division) parachuted into the flaming night on Normandy to do battle with the Germans. Transport planes carrying the Third Battalion of the 506th Parachute Regiment took off from Exeter airport on the south coast of England at 10:40 P.M. on the night of June 5, 1944. The moon was full and bright, the drones of the motors swelled to a mighty thunder and reverberated through the vault of the night, as hundreds upon hundreds of planes rendezvoused over Southampton, England, preparatory to their onslaught on Normandy. The English people knew that “this was it”—the fateful stroke which the whole world waited. Below, in their redbrick houses and little cottages, good people who had endured the fury of the Luftwaffe knelt to pray for the brave soldiers of the sky and the success of their venture. From Southampton, the planes headed out to sea and disappeared into the mist over the channel. Below the winging planes the waters were calm and shimmering with moonlight. The paratroopers, too, were calm and unafraid, though they knew that many of them would die that night. Towards the Normandy coast the planes moved, inexorable, passing over Jersey and Guernsey Islands. Suddenly, the ancient fields of Normandy appeared below. Machine gun fire chattered nervously at the formations. Angry bursts of flak snarled on every quarter. Bullets clipped through the wings and fuselages of the planes carrying their loads of paratroopers. Paratroopers were hit as they sat helplessly in these tense minutes before they reached the drop zone. Planes burst into searing flames and disintegrated, the air was filled with flak and streams of tracer bullets, which brought the sickening realization that the Germans had been waiting for the paratroopers. The red light went on. Planes veered to avoid hitting the wreckage of disabled planes. The paratroopers cursed as they saw their formations scatter—some planes changing course to avoid flak and others diving in violent evasive action. On the ground below, the Germans had set ablaze a barn, which illuminated the sky and made easy targets of our planes as they disgorged their human cargoes. The green light went on and the paratroopers began leaping into space. Many paratroopers were dead when they hit the ground. Others landed in bivouac areas or in front of the enemy’s prepared positions, and were slaughtered before they could extricate themselves from their parachutes. Those who fell in villages were killed as they descended to the streets. And many of those who were entangled in trees were bayonetted.</p>
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The paratroopers were badly scattered over the terrain—many thousands of yards from the assigned drop zone. It was extremely difficult to distinguish friend from foe, and it became almost impossible to assemble a unit. Turner’s Second Platoon had been dropped in the wrong area and was hopelessly scattered, and it was impossible to follow pre-arranged plans. With a handful of men, Turner decided to proceed to the objective. Fortunately, he had thought of bringing along an aerial photo. This photo was carefully studied and finally this small band of brave paratroopers located themselves. The night resounded to the bedlam of war—the shrill scream of shells, furious machine gun fire, whining of ricochets, the shuddering explosion of mortars and the cries of men. After locating himself at the town of Beaumont, near St. Come du Mont, Turner said to his followers that “he would take the photo and lead the way to the objective’’. As this small force moved out in column of twos down a wagon road, Turner was up front with the scouts. Lieutenant Jim Morton, Company Executive Officer, who had been injured on the jump that night said to Turner: “Good luck, Turner, and be careful” Jim says that the next time he saw Turner was after the German sniper had shot him. Turner was among the first of the paratroopers to reach the objective—two bridges over the Douve River. By daylight, still only a few men from the 506th had reached the objective to hold these two important bridges, and to deny the use of the bridges to the Germans. The situation became desperate as there were so few men, no mortars, few machine guns and no radios. As the grey light dispersed the darkness of night, Turner crept from the protecting cover of the dyke and crawled forward to an embankment at the river’s edge. He peered over this embankment to see what strength the Germans had on the high ground across the river. It was at this time that a German sniper shot him. He died instantly and experienced no pain. He never knew what hit him. Thus ended the military career of this young man who had been out of West Point a little more than one year. A couple of Turner’s men from his beloved Second Platoon crawled out under fire and brought his body back behind the dyke. To quote Lieutenant Jim Morton: “We all looked at Turner’s fine face. It was serene as if he were asleep. It was so like Turner to go forward himself rather than ask his men to do it. His unhesitating boldness was another component of Turner’s character. He was a brave man. His death sickened our hearts even under conditions where you become hardened to seeing comrades die. We knew we had lost a very good friend and a gallant soldier”.</p>
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Major General Maxwell D. Taylor, Commanding General of the 101st Airborne Division, and later, Superintendent of the Military Academy, had this to say: “The Third Battalion of the 506th Parachute Regiment had been charged with the seizing of two wooden bridges across the Douve River northeast of Carentan. The purpose of this operation was to cut two possible avenues of German reinforcements, who might otherwise have crossed to the north of the river to strike the landing at Utah Beach in the flank. The battalion, dropping about 1,500 yards west of the intended drop zone in the close proximity of the defended village of St. Come du Mont, suffered heavy casualties during the landing and assembly. A comparatively small group succeeded in fighting their way across the open ground north of the Douve to the vicinity of the bridges. Your son, Turner, was the leader of that determined band. On arrival at the bridge—the objective of the battalion—Lieutenant Chambliss moved forward to observe while the other paratroopers were digging. He got into a covered position, but at about 0720 hours a sniper shot him. He was killed instantly. His body was brought back and interred in the Division Cemetery at Hiesville with appropriate services by the Regimental Chaplain. I was present at the burial. Lieutenant Chambliss was a fine young officer and highly regarded by all officers and men of his regiment. We feel his loss most keenly”.</p>
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Colonel Robert F. Sink, Commanding Officer, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, had this to say: “I am sorry that Turner is not around to get a company and his promotion. I would like to reiterate that Turner was a fine soldier and that we all miss him very much. And I hope for you, Mrs. Chambliss, the serene knowledge that you have borne a son that contributed greatly to his country in battle”.</p>
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Captain Fred Anderson, Jr., 506th Parachute Infantry, had this to say: “From the first time I saw Turner near the drop zone until he was killed, he was doing his job in a really superior manner. His chief concern, as he told me, was to get to the objective and accomplish the mission”.</p>
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Captain Joseph B. Doughty, 506th Parachute Infantry, had this to say: “Lieutenant Chambliss and I reached bridge 36 with about 10 men at 0500 June 6, 1944. We were fired upon immediately by machine gunners and riflemen. Lieutenant Chambliss, seeing that the fire was all frontal, took one man and moved down the dyke on the left flank so as to get a shot at the sniper causing us most of the trouble. It was during this action when Lieutenant Chambliss was shot. He died instantly. The accomplishment of the mission was foremost in his mind at all times, and his courage and determination were an inspiration to his men. His death was deeply felt by every man and officer who knew him, and we will never forget him. I have Turner’s ring and camera and will send them to you as soon as possible”.</p>
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Charles Calvert Benedict, Class of January 1943, U.S.M.A., and Turner’s roommate during their entire stay at West Point, who lost his life in a B-29 on December 21, 1944 near Mukden, Manchuria, paid fine tribute to Turner in a letter to his mother—Mrs. Dorothy Potter Benedict—after he heard of Turner’s death in battle. Here is what he had to say to his mother: “I can’t get used to the idea of his death. It hit me right between the eyes. He was an A-l roommate and a wonderful guy in every way. Nothing in this war has brought the whole thing so close to home. I’m going to miss Turner and so is the whole Army in later years. He was a fine soldier”.</p>
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Lieutenant Chambliss received a posthumous award of the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart, which were delivered to his mother in Virginia. The Bronze Star was given for exceptional bravery in action against the enemy in Normandy on June 6, 1944. The official citation states, in part, “Disregarding his own safety, Lieutenant Chambliss exposed himself to draw enemy fire and ascertain the enemy positions. The snipers were located and his group was able to continue their advance. It was later in this action that he lost his life”.</p>
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The final overseas resting place of Lieutenant Chambliss is at St. Mere Eglise (American Cemetery Number 1), but he will, at a later date be reinterred at West Point, New York.</p>
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