Shadow Warrior

OSS Marine Operational Group, Union II

By Dick Camp

Marine Platoon Sergeant Jack Risler pushed his equipment bag out the small rear hatch of the B-17 Flying Fortress and followed it into the turbulent slipstream. The bomber was going too fast—more than 150 knots—but he didn't notice it in the adrenaline rush of the jump. His static line stretched tight, yanked the canopy from his British-made parachute, and he experienced the satisfying opening shock as it fully deployed. The chute slowed his descent, but at a jump altitude of only 400 feet the ground rushed up at him with alarming speed.

Risler estimated that he spent less than 30 seconds in the air before hitting the ground. He leaped to his feet, smacked the quick-release cylinder in the middle of his chest and rotated it a quarter of a turn. As he struggled to shed the harness, a scruffily dressed Résistance fighter grabbed him in a viselike bear hug and, before the flabbergasted Marine could react, sloppily planted a kiss on both cheeks. "Hell of a reception on a combat jump," Risler allowed, "but, all in all, better than a German bayonet."

Volunteer

Jack R. Risler, 287888, U.S. Marine Corps, enlisted in July 1940. After graduating from the Recruit Depot at San Diego, he was assigned to the guard force at Bremerton Navy Yard, Wash., followed by duty at the Naval Air Station, Sand Point, Wash. Shortly after Pearl Harbor, Risler volunteered for parachute training since "guard duty was boring" and was assigned immediately to the West Coast jump school at Santee (later Camp Gillespie), Calif.

He soon found himself engaged in the toughening-up exercises that seem to be so relished by elite units: stomach-churning runs, torturous calisthenics, upper body strengthening, push-ups and pull-ups. The trainees also were introduced to the "PLF" (parachute landing fall), leaping off low platforms from fuselage mock-ups, rolling and tumbling off mats and graduating to their first "leap of faith" from a Douglas DC-7. The two-engine plane had large cargo doors in the side of the aircraft, which made it easy for the jumpers. The training was hard, but it was not without its high jinks.

Gunnery Sergeant Larry Elder, one of the instructors, said, "An inspiring young starlet from Hollywood was chuted up and photographed at various stations in the training sequence. On her name tag across the left breast of her uniform was her title, 'The Cutest Chutist!' "

Following this training, Risler was assigned to the U.S. Naval Air Station Parachute Riggers School at Lakehurst, N.J., where the Marine Corps had leased the jump towers from the 1939 World's Fair. The towers had been relocated from New York City. While there, Risler made his first free fall from a K-type blimp at 2,000 feet.

Early in 1943, he was transferred to New River, N.C., as a parachute instructor under the command of Major Bruce Cheever, Chief Instructor. Among the early trainees was a former lawyer and Marine reservist, Lieutenant Walter Mansfield, who had been seconded to the nascent OSS (Office of Strategic Services). Under the command of the legendary World War I hero, William J. "Wild Bill" Donovan, the OSS ventured into the shadowy world of espionage, sabotage and guerrilla warfare. Mansfield returned to Washington and talked Donovan into establishing a joint British-American parachute school in England with Maj Cheever in charge.

Initially rebuffed by the Corps for the loan of Maj Cheever, Donovan had lunch with his WW I friend, Lieutenant General Thomas Holcomb, the Commandant. Shortly afterward, Cheever had orders to select eight noncommissioned officer instructors and report to OSS headquarters in Washington, D.C. Risler was singled out. "Would you like to do something different?" Cheever asked the wary NCO.

"Never volunteer," Risler thought, but what the hell; in for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes sir," he replied, wondering for what he had just volunteered. Cheever later told him and the others that they were headed to Washington and then to England to train agents who were going to be parachuted into occupied Europe.

Within days Risler and seven other Marines—GySgt Robert LaSalle, PltSgt Larry Elder, Sergeants Homer Mantooth, Fritz Brunner, Charles Perry, Don Roberts and John P. Bodnar—found themselves at the Congressional Country Club, Area F in OSS parlance, near Potomac, Md.

Under the tutelage of Maj W. E. Fairbairn, hand-to-hand combat training replaced golf as the primary sport at the estate. The former Assistant Commissioner of the Shanghai Municipal Police, co-developer of the Fairbairn-Sykes commando knife and author of "Get Tough: How to Win in Hand-to-Hand Fighting," taught them the rudiments of knife fighting and special uses of the .45-caliber pistol—the hard way. During the training he encouraged them to "come at me." Risler's turn came, and he remembered thinking, "I don't want to hurt this old man," just before Fairbairn knocked him on his duff!

The estate was turned quickly into a school for unconventional training: fairways became obstacle courses and small-arms ranges, sand traps turned into demolition beds, the club house provided office and work spaces. The site was supposed to be top secret, but when one newly assigned man paid for his cab ride, the driver said, "Oh, you're one of those guerrillas." Every cab driver in Washington knew what was going on. It was there that Risler first came into contact with OSS Operational Groups—Americans of foreign ancestry who were being parachuted into Europe to fight the Germans.

In November 1943, the team was transferred to STS (secret training school) 33—an old brick-walled estate named Dunham House, several miles southwest of Manchester, England. Cheever and Elder were the first to arrive; the rest followed several days later. Risler knocked on the door of the mansion and was surprised when a casual Maj Cheever opened it, wearing uniform pants, shirt and a silk scarf. "Come on in, we've been expecting you," he said and walked over to a massive fireplace. He pulled a cord, and almost immediately a batman (enlisted aide) appeared to take drink orders—"great place, this Dunham House." It was there that the British SOE (Special Operations Executive) trained agents to jump into German-occupied Europe. Most were French, although almost every European nationality was represented at one time or another.

The students were known as "Joes" or "Josephines"; no one used his or her real name. Security was vital for survival. Everyone wore a uniform, even civilians, who were usually given a plain British uniform. The training was condensed to one action-packed week—five to six jumps, often using the harrowing "balloon" drop. Four students and a dispatcher—jumpmaster—were crammed into a wicker basket that hung below a large rubber barrage balloon, tethered by a cable to a truck. On a signal the balloon was released and, after reaching an altitude of 700 feet, the truck moved slowly forward, keeping the cable at an angle, out of the jumpers' way. At altitude, the jumpers dropped one by one through a 36-inch hole in the bottom of the basket, often without seeing the ground because of England's perennial fog. Risler remembered falling a couple of hundred feet before even seeing the ground.

If the jumper pushed off too hard or looked down when dropping through the hole, he would invariably hit his head or nose on the opposite side. This was known as "ringing the bell," to the great amusement of his fellow jumpers. One wag asked the instructor what to do if the parachute failed to open—they jumped without a reserve. "Do a proper PLF," the jumpmaster breezily replied. "Roll up your chute, take it back to the lass who packed it and see if you can get a date!"

Chance Encounter

After completion of training, Risler and the others were able to wrangle a 72-hour pass to the big city. Wartime London, with its blackouts and nightly air raids, was not exactly a tourist mecca—but then again, it offered liberty-bound Marines a little more than hand-to-hand combat in the garden. As luck would have it, they ran into Marine Maj Peter J. Ortiz, who had been their student at New River.

Ortiz had just returned from a very successful mission to France and was looking for volunteers to return. His reputation for madcap adventure was well known to the three noncommissioned officers. Ortiz casually asked them what they were doing in London and followed up with, "Want to do something exciting?"

Risler reflected, "Where have I heard this before?"

Within days they were back in London at the headquarters of the SOE on Baker Street, planning for Union II—Marine Operational Group. OGs were heavily armed contingents whose mission was direct action against the Germans. The team consisted of Ortiz, Army Air Corps Captain Frank Coolidge (who served with Ortiz in the French Foreign Legion), LaSalle, Perry, Bodnar, Brunner, Risler and a Free French officer, Joseph Arcelin (code name Jo-Jo).

The Frenchman assumed the identity of a French-Canadian Marine named George Andrews, even though he didn't speak English. Their objective was the Vercors Plateau in the Haute Savoie region of southeastern France, where there was a large force of Maquis—French Résistance fighters. It was a natural fortress, 3,000 feet above sea level, 30 miles long and 12 miles wide, broken up by deep gorges and a series of long, high ridges. Few roads traversed the mastiff, making it easier to defend against road-bound armor and mechanized infantry.

Union II included a large supply drop, using almost 80 B-17s of the 388th Heavy Bombardment Group. The Flying Fortresses carried approximately 900 Type C cargo containers packed with weapons, ammunition, explosives, medical supplies, clothing and rations.

The team drew equipment and weapons: .45-cal. pistol and a Winchester folding stock carbine, Fairbairn stiletto and maps of the objective area. Most of their personal equipment was packed in a wire-reinforced canvas bag that was attached to a cargo chute. Each man carried 50,000 French francs ($1,000) and a small hip flask of "medicinal" cognac. Ortiz carried 1 million in francs for the Résistance. On 1 Aug. 1944, they attended the aircrew briefing and then boarded the aircraft. Each man flew in a separate plane. The bombers took off at 60-second intervals, climbed to an altitude of 17,000 feet and formed into three formations: high, middle and low. North American P-51 Mustang fighters took station to escort them to the drop zone.

Jack Richard Risler