Uncover the Untold Story Behind This Iconic 1944 Band of Brothers Moment — Featuring My Father on the Right
You’ve probably seen the iconic image—guys geared up beneath the plane, ready to jump into the unknown, immortalized by Band of Brothers. But what if I told you this isn’t that moment? This is one of the real ones—the raw, unfiltered seconds before history was made. Standing right there, loaded with gear and the weight of what’s to come, is my father, T/Sgt. Pat Christenson of Easy Company, the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne. Yeah, the very same guy Michael Fassbender portrayed on the show. Now, here’s a thought: how often do we forget the human waiting in the frame—nervous, determined, unsure of fate—before they become legends? Pat wasn’t just a soldier; he was the company’s only artist, painstakingly sketching his memories for decades, making sure every detail was right, every story just so. What’s in a face before the jump? A whole lot of courage, history, and unfinished tales. Curious to see the photo through my eyes and dive deeper into his story?
You have seen this moment. Men in jump gear under an airplane wing, loaded down, waiting. Band of Brothers put those faces in front of the world.
This is not that. This is one of the real ones.
The man on the right is my father, T/Sgt. Pat Christenson, Easy Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne. An original Toccoa man. Michael Fassbender played him in the series.
He jumped second in the stick, right behind Dick Winters. Winters wrote to our family and said he wanted his best, most dependable man right behind him, and that was Pat.
Nobody standing in this frame knows yet how any of it turns out. That is what makes the photograph worth something. Not the man he became. The one right there with his gear on, waiting.
He was also the only man in the company who could draw.
He came home. Went back to the telephone company, the same job he left in 1942, and worked there thirty-eight years splicing cables and climbing poles. Married my mother. Raised three sons.
And in the evenings, for the next forty years, he sat at a drawing board with his journals and his reference books spread around him and drew the war from memory. Forty-six finished drawings. My brother said that if a date or a location did not reconcile, Dad would not let it go until he figured out what actually happened. I put those drawings and his own written account together into a book this past year, which is where this photograph is from.
Dick Winters had several of the drawings copied and enlarged and sent to the production company for the series, to give the writers background. Stephen Ambrose, who Dad worked with for years on his book, called them obviously almost priceless. One of them is etched into a memorial in Normandy now.
He was my father. That is what he looked like a few hours before he went out the door.














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