dday

Robert Capa Focus Hocus-Pocus – Why Me?

A lot of people, including friends and family, have asked about my motivation to do this project, and to post it publicly.  It’s kind of a long answer.

I am 70 years old, and have had a life-long love for photography.  I love great photography, I love to make photographs.  I am particularly drawn toward the great documentary and humanistic photographers of the Twentieth Century, and the rise of photojournalism.  It started when I was 13-years old looking at Life and National Geographic magazines, Steichen’s Family of Man, and other publications.  I am very familiar with the great photographers of that era, and this influence probably comes through in my own pictures.

So, whenever I see an article, documentary, video, blog post, YouTube, Instagram or facebook post, announcement, email, etc., about one of these photographers or that theme, I immediately investigate it.  I enjoyed Ben Stiller’s, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and the more recent movies, Minimata (about W. Eugene Smith) and Lee (about Lee Miller).

A little over a year ago, early 2024, I saw a PetaPixel post about A.D. Coleman’s explanation of Robert Capa’s D-Day pictures, and the story of their survival.  Naturally, I took the click bait, and read the article, which immediately took me to Coleman’s website and blog.  I devoured it like I would devour a season of Game of Thrones.  And I was just as blown away. 

The revelations, the new information, the clever investigations – all captivated me.  I preordered Charles Herrick’s book and devoured it immediately when I received it.  This was even more detailed and thorough and clever.  He used an artillery mathematical formula to prove the exact time that Capa arrived at Easy Red.  Phenomenal! 

While I found the entire story so deeply fascinating, it also deeply troubled me.  One aspect of the work that really did not sit right was the rhetoric they used when referring to Capa and Morris.  One friend who is prominent in the photojournalism world observed that it was as if Coleman and Herrick had a vendetta against Capa and Morris.  I’ve given examples elsewhere in this blog.

That was disturbing, but not enough for me to do experiments, learn how to create a blog and everything else that went into this project.  

I was incredulous when I saw a flaw in their work that was painfully obvious.  They asked Tristan da Cunha, who planned a trip to Normandy, to determine if he could observe and take a discernable picture from the beach of a figure standing on the bluff 100 feet above where Capa apocryphally stood, according to them.  The reason for this involves a statement by filmmaker Sam Fuller, who was on Omaha Beach that morning, that Capa did just that.  Coleman called this a “factoid,” which he attributed to Normal Mailer, meaning a whole cloth lie used to manipulate the public.

Mr. da Cunha did the experiment with his Olympus OM-1 film camera with 135mm lens with a “combination of enthusiasm, methodological rigor, attention to detail and good humor.”  Da Cunha concluded that, the picture could be made, but details would be indistinct and the picture probably would not be publishable.  His own images with high resolution digital camera and zoom lens at 135mm show only a tiny figure. The pictures taken with film were much less distinct.

These results greatly pleased the Clan, with Coleman gleefully concluding it was an “exemplary contribution to the forensic analysis of photographic issues.”

The only problem with this experiment is that da Cunha used a modern single lens reflex camera, so he looked through the 135mm lens. His view was magnified.

Capa used a rangefinder, which means that his view was through the separate, optical viewfinder of the camera, not through the lens.  The optical viewfinder has a field-of-view wider than a normal lens, more like a 35mm wide angle lens, regardless of which lens was attached to the camera.  Less detail. Even with no lens, he would have the same view.  There is no way that he could have seen a magnified view of anything or anyone.

So, this was an apples and oranges experiment that proved absolutely nothing.  Not to disparage da Cunha – his work is detailed – it just lacks “methodological rigor.”

Their pride in this falacious experiment was so great that I wondered if some of their other arguments also were lacking.  So, I decided to decipher Herrick’s proof that Capa arrived on Omaha Beach at 0820.  I posted my analysis of his rationale in blog post 11, Depth Charge.  If you haven’t read it, I believe it debunks just about everything Herrick had to say on this matter.  At the least, it renders his “conclusive” evidence, very weak.

It doesn’t make me proud to say that.  I was appalled, frankly.  But when I realized that many of their arguments were specious, and that I had originally fallen for them, I decided to analyze every claim they made.  And I found more evidence of incomplete, poor thinking.

I might not have written this blog, however, were it not for a personal quirk of mine.  Everyone has their buttons, and my biggest button, that lives right square in the middle of my chest, is when a bully picks on the little guy.  In this case, it was a clan of bullies picking on a dead man and a 97-year old soon-to-be-dead man.

Criticism is fine.  Criticism is good.  I welcome criticism.  In medicine, when we get together in committee meetings, we are ruthless with each other.  It’s an essential element to providing quality of care because it leads to the truth.  I wasn’t upset that the Clan were criticizing Capa and Morris, dissecting their story, revealing the flaws.  Those are important historically.  It was the ugly, disparaging way in which they went about it.  Rude, name-calling, condescending, insulting.  These are not just my words.  I’ve met many people who feel the same way.  It seemed unprofessional and pointless.

That is what fueled my passion.  I started to see their theory creeping into other outlets.  Tatiana Hopper, in her excellent YouTube channel, mentioned Coleman and others who challenged the orthodoxy.  Others started to temper their opinions of Capa and Morris with caveats that their story might be fictitious.

Even John Morris himself began to back off of some of his claims.  Coleman and I exchanged emails about this.  He maintains that his work finally caught John Morris with his pants down and made him begin to admit that he had been lying for seven decades.  I see it differently.  As I wrote to Coleman, “I believe that was because of relentless pursuit by you.  Any centenarian would question his own mind under that kind of pressure: ethics complaints, accusations of fraud, blog posts questioning his honesty.  That’s some pretty heavy stuff you threw at him.  Pity.”  These were distant events.  Even at 70, I find myself mis-recalling early events in my life that I have recounted many times.

So, that’s the thing in a nutshell.  If the Clan had been more civil in their public writings and presentations, I would not have started this project because I would not have been so irritated as to look deeper.  Most people I have approached with this project agree.  That includes Pulitzer Prize recipients, National Geographic staff photographers, museum and gallery curators, working photojournalists and professional historians. 

Thank you for your continued interest.

Robert Capa Focus Hocus-Pocus – Alchemy

To find out what effect, if any, soaking in seawater would do to exposed but undeveloped film, I experimented on a freshly exposed roll of Kodak-XX 5222.  I chose XX film because it succeeded Capa's Super-XX, which had been discontinued in 1958.  I don’t have a Contax II, so I used a period rangefinder camera, the Leica IIIc.

Kodak Super-XX 35mm film. This is the film Capa used on D-Day. Kodak discontinued this film in 1958.

I added sea salt to tap water to make a 3.5% solution (average salinity of seawater), dunked the exposed cannister of film in the solution for 20 minutes (assuming the maximum amount of time Capa would have been in the water during his exodus), let it dry for 36 hours to simulate the time before Capa’s film reached Life in London, and developed it normally.  I did not put it in a heated drying cabinet; it air-dried in a shower stall.

I had always heard that saltwater can be used as a fixer in a pinch, meaning it removes undeveloped silver ions from film. If it hits film prior to exposure to the developer, it should remove most of the silver. So, I fully expected to see relatively clear negatives that would have a washed out appearance, not dark and mud grey.

The results were surprising.  First, the film felt dry and rolled onto the spool without difficulty.  I imagined that it would still be wet, or the emulsion would be sticky, making it difficult to load the film.  This would have tipped off Wild that something was wrong.  But not so.  It felt like normal, dry film.

Negatives from the first test roll, Kodak 5222 XX film respooled by CineStill, Inc.  The cannister was submerged in 3.5% saltwater for 20 minutes and then placed on its end opposite the nipple for 36 hours at room temperature to dry.  Normal processing in CineStill Df96.  The uneven effect of saltwater exposure had the least effect in the later frames, which were closest to the spool.  Also, when drying it rested on the end opposite the nipple, which would be the bottom of these frames.  This indicates that the modern cannister was tight enough to prevent complete saltwater intrusion after 20 minutes.  The fogging effect of 20 minutes exposure to saltwater appears overexposed and results in a "grey mud" appearance, exactly as described by John Morris.

Immersion in 3.5% sodium chloride for 20 minutes, followed by air-drying for 36 hours, resulted in precipitation, not removal, of metallic silver throughout the emulsion that had contact with the saltwater.  It did not wash away or distort the emulsion.  It did not prevent development, in fact it looked like the saltwater developed the film.  It had the appearance of over exposure to light, as if Capa had removed the back of his camera without rewinding the film first.*  It looked like, well, grey mud.

Plain water does not do this.  It is common to soak film in plain water prior to developing, with no adverse effect.  There must be something about saltwater. Film contains molecules of silver bromide, AgBr, in the gelatin. Bromine is a halide. Saltwater contains sodium chloride, NaCl, and the chloride is also a halide. It’s not in plain water. There must be some exchange of halides occurring with film in a solution of sodium chloride that allows the silver ion to precipitate as metallic silver crystals. But I probably need to talk to a chemist about that.

I think the uneven effect on my roll was due to incomplete saltwater exposure. I think the cannister was so light-tight that it was also pretty water-tight, and it did not fill completely. The areas that are dark correspond to where I would expect a limited amount of water to be located.

I repeated the experiment, but this time left the film cannister in saltwater for 4 hours. This did give me the results I originally expected, washed out negatives. The saltwater had fixed the second set of negatives. I guess whatever process occurred during the first 20 minutes was reversed by the persistent exposure to sodium chloride. I definitely need to talk to a chemist.

Contact sheet of film submerged for four hours in saltwater.  Most of the exposed silver ions in the emulsion were bleached out by prolonged exposure to saltwater prior to developing, resulting in negatives that appear underexposed.

My interpretation, is that the 20 minutes that the second roll of film spent submerged in seawater, in Capa’s pocket or camera bag, was sufficient to fully soak the film in 3.5% sodium chloride. This was sufficient to cause the silver ions to aggregate and then convert to metallic silver when developed. The cannisters he had may have been less water-tight than a modern cannister. After he boarded the LCI(L)-94, the water drained out of the cannisters. Thirty-six hours later the film was developed with identical results as I obtained, only his entire roll was soaked, whereas only part of mine was soaked.

This resulted in the dark, “grey mud” appearance of the negatives, that poor Dennis Banks interpreted as due to his negligence.

No one lied. Not Morris. Not Capa.

Clan Coleman would have you believe that Robert Capa and John Morris conspired to create a complex lie to explain Capa’s dearth of images from Omaha Beach, while maintaining his daring persona. They apparently intimidated all Life employees who witnessed the event into lifelong silence. And they were able to hoodwink subsequent, multigenerational employees of institutions, authors, famous CNN hosts, bloggers and YouTubers into, not just accepting these lies, but perpetuating them.

On the other hand, I have shown it is much more plausible that they simply told the truth as they saw it.

* Over exposure to sunlight is my second theory explaining the ruined roll B, in a subsequent blog post, Overexposure.

Ed: Corrected “sodium” to “chloride” when describing halide, 5/30/2025.

Robert Capa Focus Hocus-Pocus – The Darkroom Mishap

The “darkroom mishap” story occupies a large volume of Clan Coleman’s vituperative criticism of Capa and Morris.  The basic story goes like this, with slight variations over the years.

John Morris, Life magazine’s European picture editor in London, and his colleagues waited anxiously for Capa’s film to arrive after D-Day.  Other Life photographers would be sending back film, but Capa’s figure prominently in these tellings.

The film finally arrived at the Life offices at 2100 – 9pm the day after D-Day – and Morris immediately ordered his darkroom staff to process the film as quickly as possible.  Morris had an absolute deadline by which he had to send the film to New York for publication. 

In addition to other film that Capa exposed before and after the invasion while on the Chase – pictures of men on the ship and possible pictures of the armada –  Morris would have received the roll of 35mm film from Contax A and the "ruined" roll from Contax B.  Capa included a note that read, "Film like everything got wett by landing." [sic]  He had protected Contax A, so the only film that could have gotten wet was the roll from Contax B that he removed on the beach when he changed his film, that got wet in is pocket or camera bag when he waded out to the LCI. Capa may have included two more unexposed but soaked rolls.

While Morris waited, a senior darkroom technician, Hans Wild, called Morris from the darkroom to tell him the pictures were “fabulous.”  Subsequently, an adolescent darkroom assistant, Dennis Banks, ran into Morris’ office, informing him that almost all of the negatives had been ruined.  The “darkroom lad” explained that, to hasten the drying of the negatives under this deadline pressure, he had placed them in a cabinet and turned up a heating coil.  He apparently concluded that this overheated the negatives causing the emulsion to melt and ruin the film, ruining all but 10 images.  Morris, who rushed to inspect the film, said the negatives looked like "grey mud."(27) 

AI-generated image of Dennis Banks trying to understand how Robert Capa’s film was ruined right after Hans Wild said it was fabulous. That sick moment when he realized he had messed up, big time!

AI-generated image of John Morris examining the only useable images on one roll of Robert Capa’s film from Omaha Beach. Anxious Life magazine employees surround him.

Coleman et al., dispute the claim that heat could damage the film, which is the basis for their conclusion that Capa and/or Morris fabricated the story to cover for Capa’s lack of production that morning.  Tristan Da Cunha effectively has refuted the story.  Da Cunha subjected exposed period black and white film in a vintage Contax II camera, as well as exposed modern film, to high temperatures while drying.  The emulsion remained stable and did not melt or run in any of their experiments.(28)  .

The darkroom mishap story raises many questions, the first being, how did they go from fabulous to ruined in minutes?  As Coleman said, "I find it implausible that Morris would receive those precious, anxiously awaited, historic, irreplaceable four rolls of film by Capa...only to turn them over to a 15-year-old-lab assistant for developing."  To understand what actually happened requires a little bit of darkroom knowledge.

The film that Capa used that day, Super-XX, was a panchromatic film, meaning it was sensitive to all wavelengths of visible light.  Photographic paper, by contrast, is orthochromatic, meaning it is not sensitive to red light, which is why prints can be processed in a darkroom under red light.  But this would ruin a roll of panchromatic film.  The film had to be processed in complete darkness.

In a completely dark room, the technician opens the cannister of film by popping off one end, then pulls out the spool holding the film that is wound around it.  The technician then feeds the film onto another larger spool that allows for spaces between each layer of film so that it can be bathed in developing chemicals.  The film is wound onto this developing spool starting with the first frame on the roll, which means the last frames comprise the outer layer.  Capa’s surviving images, at the end of roll A, would have been present on that outer layer on the spool. 

This spool, and any others, are then placed into a light-tight developing tank, into which the developing chemicals are placed for specific times at particular temperatures to produce useable negatives. 

However, given the vicissitudes of producing photographs in combat conditions, it was not uncommon to peek at the film prior to halting development.  For example, if film had been underexposed, it might need a longer time in the developer.  W. Eugene Smith did this commonly.

Development is then stopped, often with water or even vinegar, and excess silver ions are “fixed” out of the emulsion while leaving the reduced metallic silver grains on the film with the third bath, fixer.  Finally, the film is rinsed thoroughly before hanging it to dry.

As Coleman emphatically states, it doesn’t make sense that processing the film would be left in the hands of a teenaged lad, but there is nothing in Morris’ story to indicate that it was.  I believe the development was handled by Hans Wild.  It is entirely plausible that Wild peeked at the roll from Contax A toward the end of development, saw the last images on the outer layer of the spool, finished the processing, put the film in the sink to wash, and notified the anxious Morris that the pictures were fabulous.  When it was fully rinsed, which takes about ten minutes, he probably told Banks to finish it, saying something like, “Hey, kid, stick those negs in the dryer and add some heat.  We’ve got a deadline to meet!”

Banks could have been trusted to hang the film to dry.  This is exactly the type of duty an inexperienced "darkroom lad" would be expected to do.  Wild was probably busy processing all the film that arrived by courier that night and making contact sheets for the censors, despite Coleman’s claim that they were all just sitting around with nothing to do, twiddling their thumbs.  In fact, I imagine the London Life office was very hectic during one of the greatest battles of the history of the world.  It’s ludicrous to think it was anything other than utter chaos.*

At some point, Banks would have seen that the emulsion on the roll from Contax B contained illegible images, and quite possibly assumed he did it by overheating.  After all, it went from fabulous to ruined with the hot cabinet as the only variable.  Banks probably showed the film to Wild, who realized the catastrophic magnitude of this blunder, and probably told him that he had to tell the boss.  

The Clan, who predetermined that an incompetent, cowardly, conniving Capa blew it at Omaha Beach, contend that Capa fabricated this darkroom mishap story to cover for his timid failure on D-Day.  They claim that he concocted the story to make him and Morris look heroic. 

Herrick claimed, “The last thing he [Capa] would have wanted was for the complete set of his D-Day pictures to surface… None of the many shots he claimed to have taken at the shingle would have turned up, because he never reached that point and invented that incident.” (31)  This assertion is pure speculation without foundation. 

But, it begs the question, how did roll B get ruined?



* Herrick has shown that Morris omitted a key aspect regarding the handling of film from correspondents.(29,30)   E.K. Butler explained the process in Editor and Publisher magazine, 1944, Volume 77, Issue 47, page 16. All film had to be managed by the Ministry of Information censors.  Couriers brought the film to the MOI, not directly to the magazine offices.  It was logged in before it was couriered to the appropriate outlet, such as Life magazine offices, for processing.

 After developing the film, the technicians printed contact sheets and prints, which were returned to the MOI for inspection during the day. At night, finished prints were returned to the MOI as radio prints.  Censors retained any material deemed secret, then returned the remaining film to the magazine for editing and publication.  That’s a lot oftechnical detail that would distract from the main story, which I imagine is why Morris usually omitted it.

27.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2015/02/12/alternate-history-robert-capa-on-d-day-21/

28.    https://tdacunha.com/robert-capa/

29.    Herrick, p. 245

30.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2019/06/06/guest-post-28-charles-herrick-on-capas-d-day-j/

31.    Herrick, p. 269

 

Robert Capa Focus Hocus-Pocus – Depth Charge

I really did not intend to leave you with a cliffhanger then go to commercial break, but I just read my last post about Capa making it to the beach and I realized that I have not explained to you, dear Reader, why I believe there is good evidence that he did, and why the Coleman Bros vehemently deny it.  Ah, the pitfalls of blogging.  The Darkroom post will come tomorrow, as promised, but in the meantime here’s a not-so-quick explanation that will make my interpretation of the darkroom “mishap” more apparent.

It all has to do with waves, tides and eyewitnesses.

Waves

Charles Herrick has been on the vanguard of proving that Capa arrived at Easy Red much later than he claimed, 0820, rather than 0740.  Most of his arguments that I discuss here are presented in Chapter 10 of his book.

Herrick’s first proof that Capa arrived around 0820 involved Landing Tables for the 16th Regimental Combat Team, which showed a slot for a "press photographer" in the commander's vessel (Colonel Taylor), which was a LCM (landing craft mechanized).  This was in the 13th wave, arriving along with one other vessel, a LCVP that contained the medical team, scheduled to arrive at 0805.  Actual arrival time was between 0813 and 0824. 

Capa had mentioned possibly going in with Company B of the 11th wave overall, second wave from the Chase, scheduled to arrive at 0750, but Herrick refutes this by saying that the Landing Tables were immutable.  It was not possible to change the order once the operation was underway.  I refer the reader to Herrick’s account to save space here, but his research on that seemed solid to me… at first glance.

Yet, Herrick also claims that Taylor switched boats at the last minute with the medical team.  He chose to take his command crew on the LCVP, rather than the LCM, which means that the manifest was not immutable.  We don't know if the entire manifest of both vessels swapped, or part of them.  The capacity of an LCM was up to 100 troops, plus a crew of 4 to 6.  The capacity of a LCVP was only 36 passengers, plus crew.  These boats were packed tightly with men and equipment.  Herrick omitted these capacity figures in his analysis. 

Likely, there was not enough room for Capa on the smaller LCVP.  We know from Herrick that Capa did switch boats, so it is conceivable that he switched waves.  It seems reasonable that if Capa wanted to arrive at the beach earlier, had hoped for E Company but was stuck on a different ship, he would have taken this opportunity to jump in a LCVP with B Company. Herrick’s conclusive proof that Capa went in with Taylor falls apart with this knowledge and is refuted by an eyewitness (see below).  Therefore, his arrival time on the beach becomes less certain.

There’s more…

Herick said that Capa left the Chase too late to get to the beach when he claimed.  According to the U.S. Coast Guard, the branch that operated the landing craft, "The attack transport Samuel Chase, part of Task Group 124.3, arrived in the transport area 10 miles off Normandy's shore and anchored on the morning of June 6 at 3:15.  The ship began embarking troops at 5:30 a.m.  The first waves [there’s that word again] got underway at 5:36 a.m. and the last wave launched a little after 6 a.m."(35)  Therefore, according to the Coast Guard, Capa must have left at or before 0600, which meant he could have been at the beach by 0740.

Just like bombers when they take off, these smaller boats circled in the water so that they could leave in a little armada, rather than dribbling in individually.  Note the Coast Guard used the term, "wave," to mean  the successive order of landing craft from this attack transport, not the overall Normandy invasion.  The second wave from the Chase would be Company B, according to the U.S. Coast Guard, the company that Capa said he rode with. So, Clan Coleman's dismissal of Capa's claim to have been in the second wave appears to be more of a semantic argument than anything else.  

Tides

A second method Herrick used to determine Capa's arrival time involved a military WRM equation, used to determine distance to an object. This is usually determined using a graduated reticle on an optical sight. Herrick used pictures.  He compared Capa's negative 32 to a famous photograph made by Chief Photographer's Mate Robert F. Sargent commonly called, Into the Jaws of Death.  Both photographs were taken from a LCVP, so at first glance this seems like a reasonable comparison to make.  Sargent's LCVP arrived with Company E around 0740, according to the National Coast Guard Museum.(35)

Robert Sargent, Into the Jaws of Death


Herrick measured the vertical distance on these pictures from the top of an embankment to the bottom of a strip of shale.  Never mind that these pictures were not taken at the same section of beach, which means we must assume the configuration of these landmarks was very similar in different locations, but the two photographs were made from different heights above the water.  He said that the different widths of the landmarks proved that Capa was closer, which meant he came in much later.

But, Capa made his photograph from the bow of the LCVP after the men disembarked, Sargent was standing toward the heavier stern, so he would have been lower than Capa.  With Capa’s higher vantage point, the landmarks in his pictures analyzed by Herrick would naturally have been wider (again, assuming the beach where Capa landed was nearly identical to where Sargent landed).  Therefore, Herrick’s estimation does not mean that Capa was closer, and by extension, later than Sargent.

Beyond that, Capa and Sargent used entirely different optical systems.  Capa used his 35mm Contax with a 50mm lens.  Sargent used a large format 4x5 inch camera, probably a modified Graflex Speedmatic, but with an unknown lens, likely either a 135mm or 150mm lens.  These two camera and lens combinations will give greatly different perspectives, object dimensions and images that are not comparable.  Apples and oranges.

After explaining with math equations how he derived his conclusion of Capa’s later arrival based on the arguments above, Herrick admitted, "At best, we can only use the waterline as a very crude estimate..." 

Herrick used similar logic when examining the hedgehogs in Capa’s picture vs. Sargent’s.  Herrick points out the hedgehogs in Capa's Negative 32 are in deeper water than the hedgehogs in Sargent's picture, indicating again that the tide had risen significantly between the two pictures, therefore Capa could not have been there at 0740. 

But when Capa entered the water he photographed the hedgehogs and log ramps close-up.  Capa tells us, in negatives 34, 35, 36 and 38, that the hedgehogs and log ramps are sitting on the sand not covered by water, and the men are lying on their bellies on sand, not in water.  Using Herrick's reasoning, this would imply that he was there earlier than Sargent.  

Above is Negative 35, showing the men lying on sand. Herrick cherry picked a negative that showed men up to their waist in water, explaining the tide had raised the water level, proving Capa arrived later. But he knew those men were standing in a runnel, and that the picture did not accurately depict the level of the tide. The above picture does, and strongly suggests a much earlier time than Herrick claims.


The higher water in Capa’s negative 32 of the beach is not because of a rising tide, but because of a runnel, or deep channel, running parallel to the beach. There are multiple accounts of men beaching on sand, then wading through deep water the closer they got to shore, because of these runnels.  Herrick knew this, because he talks about runnels in his book.

Herrick used specious arguments to support his theory that Capa’s arrival was more consistent with an 0830 timeframe than a 0740 timeframe.  But the argument falls apart upon closer analysis.

After a lengthy discussion regarding these methods, Herrick concluded, "I'll leave it to the reader to decide." 

Eyewitnesses

Three eyewitnesses put Capa on the beach before 0820, closer to 0740.

Sam Fuller's account may be the most disputed.  I have, or will, discuss parts of it elsewhere, so I won’t spend any time on it here. 

Captain Charles Hangsterfer was with the 1st Battalion of the 16th Infantry, that included A, B, C and D Companies.  He landed on Easy Red at 0700, made his way to the beach and then further up to the bluff and paused for a break.  He then went back to the beach to recover men from his company, when he saw, "Bob Capa, a combat photographer for a magazine taking pictures of the carnage.  He was behind one of the self-propelled tanks that had been knocked out."  Herrick quoted him as saying,

He was a civilian, he was paid to take pictures and he was behind this — one of these DD tanks that was knocked out. There were three of them out of a hundred, these DD tanks I started to tell you about, these tanks that were supposed to be our artillery support, and three of them got to shore out of a hundred and he was behind one of them, knocked out [inaudible] on the beach … taking pictures and I waved to him. I had seen him over in North Africa and he knew who I was and he took a picture of me, but the poor guy took all these pictures and none of them turned out … Somebody goofed up in the development of them and they never turned out. So I never had a picture of me on the beach there looking for my troopers... (36)

In his blog post #25, Coleman estimated that Hangsterfer saw Capa on the beach between 0735 and 0750, an estimate with which I agree. However, after Herrick posted his estimates to Coleman’s blog, Coleman changed his time estimates and attributed Hangsterfer’s memory to stolen or “borrowed glamor.” As we just saw, Herrick’s estimates are based on poor reasoning, in my opinion. Coleman was right initially, which supports my contention that Capa switched to B Company and did not go in with Colonel Thompson.

The third and best source was Lieutenant William Kays, who was a liason officer for the commander, Major Edmund Driscoll, First Battalion, 16th Infantry Regiment.  His LCVP landed on Easy Red at 0730.   

Capa’s photograph of William Kays (on left with glasses) in a planning session the night before the invasion on board the USS Chase. Kays admitted that he inserted himself in this picture by the famous Life photographer.

Kays confirmed that the landing craft circled after they were launched, until all boats were in the water, "so we could arrive at the beach at the same time."  Kays described standing at the rear of the LCVP with his radio operator and a runner, and "I found myself standing in front of the famous Life magazine photographer Robert Capa," at the right rear of the boat.

Upon seeing explosions on the beach, Kays recalled Capa saying, "That must be the beach engineers blowing up the obstacles."  Kays described shallow water swirling around the obstacles and seeing the bodies of men lying at water's edge.

Kays described the boat being hit by machine gun fire, causing his radio operator, Doyle, to panic.  Two soldiers removed the radio from his back.  Kays indicated that Capa's photos depict him and other men disembarking, including Doyle and another soldier carrying the radio to shore.(37) The heavy resistance was confirmed by B Company’s Action Report.*

On June 25, 1944, Kays wrote that once in the water, he ran for a tank 50 yards toward shore amidst a "hail of M.G. [machine gun] fire all around us," from somewhere to his right front. Once sheltered behind it, he looked around and saw Capa shooting pictures from behind another tank.  Kays stated in his letter that this was the last time he saw Capa, did not see him ashore and speculated that he left the area on a returning boat.

This account is detailed and very clear in Kays’s book, Letters from a Soldier.**  Kays went on after the war to become the Dean of Engineering at Stanford University and pivotal in the development of Silicon Valley, hardly an unreliable participant or witness.

Of course, Coleman and Herrick dismiss this account.  A reader of Coleman's blog, who helped Kays write an article about his book, brought the account to Colemans attention,(38) but Coleman simply told him that he didn’t know what he was talking about, and referred him to Herrick's analysis of Kays' story.(39)

Another blog reader, Maureen Doyle Sullivan, the daughter of Lenny Doyle (Kays' radio operator) confirmed the story told by Kays, and stated that her father was one of the soldiers laying in the sand by a hedgehog in a Capa picture.  Coleman condescendingly dismissed Ms. Sullivan’s claims as well, and referred her to Herrick's analysis.

So, what is Herrick's analysis of Kays' testimony?  Herrick acknowledges that Kays' story was based on letters he wrote contemporaneously, so they should be accurate, but states that the letters do not sound "authentic."  Further evidence of Kays' mendacity, according to Herrick, is that Kays referred to Capa as a "Life photographer," which Herrick felt sounded awkward, and that "it would have sounded much more natural if Kays had simply said "'A photographer from Life was next to me in the boat,' omitting the name, since Capa's name recognition was not really widespread at that point." [even though Picture Post magazine had referred to Capa as "the world's greatest war photographer,” Capa had been widely published for years, and they had spent several days together on the Chase, where Kays doubtless learned of Capa's reputation. Herrick himself stated that men on the boat knew that Capa was “world renown.” page 189]  Herrick opined that Kays' letters lacked "the ring of authenticity for a letter written in June 1944."

Just to be clear, Herrick claims that syntax in a letter home in 1944, from a weary soldier in an active combat zone, who just had survived hell, is evidence that Kays exaggerated and embellished his story.

But to really make his point, Herrick refutes Kays' daughter and Kays' contemporaneous account by saying there was no tank in the location Kays described.  The problem with this argument is that Kays did not describe his location in his letters or his memoir.  He just said he was by a tank, but not which tank. Herrick assumes it is the center tank in Negative 32, but it could have been any tank.   

Herrick then said, "Furthermore, Capa stopped first to shelter behind a 'hedgehog' obstacle for an undetermined period of time, then moved to the shelter of tank dozer 10."  But, Capa’s pictures proved this statement false in the second blog post.

That’s not all…

Not giving up, Herrick then refers again to the water level in Sargent's picture vs. Capa's picture as conclusive proof of the Stanford dean's mendacity, which I have already shown to be an specious comparison.  Herrick confidently proclaims, "This definitively disproves Kays's assertion that Capa rode in on the same landing craft with him and the commander of the 1st Battalion."

In fact, as I have shown in this lengthy and laboriously detailed post, Herrick proved none of his assertions.  Thus, the Clan’s argument that Capa was not in the water long enough to have gone to the beach to shoot his second roll of film falls flat on its face.

Thank you for your patience, but I think you probably now know why I had to go into so much detail. Now, as promised, on to the Darkroom Mishap.



*https://www.americandday.org/Documents/1st_ID-16th_IR-1st_Bn-B_Company-Account.html

** William M. Kays, Letters from a Soldier: A Memoir of World War II. Create Space. 2010.

35.    https://warchronicle.com/16th-infantry-situation-on-d-day/

36.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2015/08/02/alternate-history-robert-capa-on-d-day-25/

37.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2015/08/02/alternate-history-robert-capa-on-d-day-25/

38.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2019/02/12/alternate-history-robert-capa-on-d-day-40a/

39.    https://www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/2019/05/20/guest-post-27-charles-herrick-on-capas-d-day-i/

 

Robert Capa Focus Hocus-Pocus – Foggy Waves of Regiments

It is necessary to pause for a moment to define a few concepts.

Regiments and Companies

First, it's important to understand the organization of the Army as it relates to Omaha Beach.  The United States Army has many units, which have subunits, which have subunits, etc.  Capa was assigned to an infantry unit – ground troops – so I will concentrate on that.

The largest infantry unit is the Division, and there are many of those.  Omaha Beach was assaulted by the First Infantry Division, AKA the Big Red One, and the 29th Infantry Division, AKA the Blue and Gray.

Divisions are divided into Regiments (Brigades).  Regiments are divided into Battalions.  Battalions are divided into Companies.  Up to 200 personnel comprise a Company.

On D-Day, the 16th Regiment of the First Infantry assaulted Omaha Beach under Colonel George A. Taylor's command.  The First Battalion of these troops were transported to France on the U.S.S. Chase.  The Second Battalion were on the U.S.S. Henrico. 

Capa was on the U.S.S. Chase, which means he was with the First Battalion.  He was originally slated to ride to the beach in the Colonel Taylor's LCVP.  But Taylor switched his entire group of out the more spacious LCM (Landing Craft Mechanized) and into a more maneuverable LCVP (Landing Craft Vehicle/Personnel), otherwise known as the Higgins boat.  The Higgins boat can hold about 33 to 36 outfitted soldiers, whereas the LCM can hold up to 100.

Wave

The wave of troops that Capa claimed to have accompanied is severely contested by Clan Coleman.  They say that he flat out lied about going in with the first wave, and are quite vituperous about it.

The term, "wave" as it applies to amphibious assault, is a malleable term.  On D-Day, the first Company from the Big Red One to arrive at the beach was Company E, aboard many LCVP's from the Henrico.  So, in one sense, the men in the first landing craft with Company E were the first wave.

However, "wave" can also mean the arrival of boats from a specific Troop Carrier, like the Henrico or the Chase.  The Coast Guard referred to the first wave from the Chase, meaning the first troops to arrive from her.  The first wave of troops from the Chase would have arrived at Omaha Beach after the first wave of troops from the Henrico, making them second wave overall.  Very confusing.

"First wave" has also been used to describe all the troops that arrived on Omaha Beach on June 6, the first 24 hours.*  So, the term "wave" is ambiguous and should not be interpreted with the specificity assigned to it by Coleman and colleagues, who continually harangue Capa for his claim to go in with the first wave.

E. K. Butler of the Associated Press Newsphoto Service, was the editor and supervisor of production for the U.S. Wartime Still Photo Pool during the invasion.  He reported, "Going in with the first assault waves were Peter Carroll of AP, Bob Capa and Bob Landry of Life, and Bert Brandt of Acme." **

Herrick did not include this quote, even though he quoted other parts of this article, presumably because it does not support his contention that Capa did not go in with the first waves.  This is another example of selective scholarship.

Personally, I don't see that it matters one bit whether someone arrived on the very first boat, or 20 boats behind them.  They all faced the same fortified enemy; they all faced the very real possibility of death.  To distinguish the order in which these men arrived, as Coleman and his friends have done, impugns the honor of many who served that day.

Fog of War

The other concept that relates to this story is the fog of war.  This generally refers to uncertainty experienced during and after complex and stressful events, such as combat.  The memories of soldiers who experienced the same event can vary significantly.  Lack of communication, command and control exacerbates the fog of war.  Lack of situational awareness plays a large part in the fog of war.  Fear, of course, amplifies and distorts perception of reality, which contributes to the fog of war.  The Coleman Clan appear to dismiss this concept, demanding absolute, precise accuracy from their human historical sources.

* In his book, The First Wave, written specifically about the first wave of troops to land on Omaha Beach, Alex Kershaw considers all the men who assaulted Normandy that day, including paratroopers, to have been in the first wave. (Alex Kershaw. The First Wave. The D-Day Warriors who led the way to Victory in World War II. Dutton Caliber, An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. 2020 [footnote added May 28, 2025]

** Editor and Publisher, 1944-11-18: Vol 77 Iss 47