D-Day paratroopers honored by thousands, including CBS News’ Charlie D’Agata, reenacting a leap into Normandy

President Biden began a state visit to France on Wednesday to mark the 80th anniversary of the Allied Forces’ historic D-Day invasion of Nazi-occupied France. This massive American, British and Canadian attack on the beaches of Normandy in northern France would prove to be a turning point in the Second World War, and American paratroopers played a key role.

This week, hundreds of reenactors leapt from the sky to honor the bravery of these men and the sacrifices made by them and their families.

In an attempt to better understand their stories, CBS News foreign correspondent Charlie D’Agata made the same jump the day before the anniversary of D-Day, June 6 – from a World War II plane, wearing equipment replicated from World War II. What follows is their story from the hallowed ground of Normandy and the heavens above.

Normandy, France — Not much has changed in the training of American paratroopers since their predecessors risked – and lost – their lives invading Normandy almost 80 years ago.

The “parachute fall” is the same: how to absorb the impact without breaking your legs. Learning how to exit the parachute if they are being dragged along the ground after landing remains a similar and vital maneuver.

We arrange our own kicks. The smallest mistake can be lethal, so before we started, instructor Ian Marshall explained everything that could go wrong.

Every nightmare scenario for us existed for paratroopers eight decades ago, but with an additional hail of gunfire. A blown or torn canopy, tangled cables, getting tangled up with another jumper, water landings, tees, power lines – these are all real and present hazards.

The last resort: pull the reserve parachute. You may not go away, we are told, but you will live.

We went to Holland to test our training.

With all the exercise and training, it’s hard enough to remember what’s going on. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for young people who were actually heading into a war zone – having to remember all of that and then face enemy fire from the moment they approached the beach.

Not for me, but the smile I wore before my first jumping practice was still very nervous.

The Cessna took off, full of fellow jumpers.

There is no time now to think twice. We reached an altitude of 2,000 feet and it was time to leave. There is no turning back now.

I dove. Freefall for five terrifying seconds, and then relief when I could see that my parachute had opened properly.

It was an emotion. Jumping out of the plane was scary, but afterwards it was quite peaceful up there.

There were a few things I got wrong, but I got most of them right, and as one of the instructors said, you can make all the mistakes you want – as long as none of them are fatal.

The second jumping training session didn’t go very well. Trying to land, I went straight into a ditch and a fence. I will turn with the wind. Bad idea. I just eliminated the danger, but I entered with force.

My third jump was even worse, leaving the jump zone completely. I’m beginning to understand how so many paratroopers were scattered all over Normandy that night. They were trying to reach their target in total darkness, under enemy fire, and the weather was not friendly either.

On the fourth jump, I overcorrected, falling short of the jump zone and almost hitting the runway.

Finally, it was jump five. I would need this one to work to qualify for my license.

I received a blow to the back of the head when the parachute opened violently, but I finally managed to land inside the drop zone.

I had earned my wings, qualified to parachute alone – and to jump into Normandy. In that case, I wouldn’t abandon a modern Cessna.

It was when I dressed up in a replica World War II uniform and boarded the C-47 Dakota that I really began to imagine what it must have been like for those men that day, preparing to leap into the unknown.

The vast majority of men and women participating in this week’s jump spree were U.S. military veterans, including many current paratroopers from the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions. More than 13,000 paratroopers led the initial D-Day attack, transported from British bases to Normandy in more than 800 C-47s.

For many, what would become known as “The Longest Day” was actually the shortest. More than 9,000 American soldiers died.

It gave me butterflies to imagine those young soldiers climbing aboard this plane on D-Day, not knowing what to expect, but knowing they were in for the fight of their lives.

As we crossed the English Channel towards the coast of France, in addition to the noise of the Dakota’s engines, we could hear a pin drop.

And then it was time to go.

I was told to jump “vigorously” through the door, as the flow along the fuselage of a Dakota can cause the parachute to twist.

Our aircraft led the way through the skies above Carenten, the heart of the D-Day drop zones in 1944. The paratroopers of 80 years ago had no time to think after hitting the ground, they immediately went to work to secure strategic bridges and roads, establishing a critical foothold for the Allies in occupied France.

It took three days of intense fighting for the Allies to take control of the territory, in part because many troops had landed off target.

The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial, on a cliff overlooking the coast at Colleville-sur-Mer, contains the graves of 9,388 fallen soldiers, most of whom died in the D-Day landings and the operations that followed.

CBS News producer Steve Berriman contributed to this report.