My body as well as my gear was bouncing off of the C-47’s floor, along with every other soldier aboard the plane, that night as it started down the runway to pick up speed to take off. The day that everyone had been waiting so long for had finally arrived, D- DAY. The more speed the C-47 picked up, the worse the vibrations became. I held my Thompson machine gun close to my chest. It was the one thing that helped me stay calm through the German flak and night fighters that I knew were coming. Then all became somewhat calm, we were finally airborne. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the wind whipping past the jump door as the engines strained to gain altitude. The pitch of the two engines changed which told us veterans that we were at altitude and we were headed for France and the welcoming committee in Normandy. I was sure the welcoming wasn’t going to be very friendly. My buddy Carl Bush was sitting next to me trying to write a letter to his wife or mother. Then the C-47 suddenly dropped a few feet causing Carl to rip a gaping hole in the paper with the pencil. Carl became so mad that he threw the paper onto the deck of the plane. He nudged me in my right arm. In order to talk to someone it was necessary to scream.
“YOU, ALRIGHT CHARLIE?”
“FINE , YOU?”
“I WAS TRYING TO WRITE A LETTER TO MY MOTHER, WHEN THE DAMN PLANE DROPPED. TORE A DAMN HOLE IN THE PAPER. GUESS I’LL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL I’M ON THE GROUND.”
“GUESS SO.”
“WHAT YOU GOING TO DO WHEN WE GET TO PARIS?”
“I‘LL WORRY ABOUT THAT WHEN I GET THERE, BUT I FIGURE I‘LL BE NEEDING A BATH BY THEN?”
“YEA, I’LL PROBABLY NEED ONE OF THOSE TOO, WHAT DO YOU THINK, CHARLIE?”
“ I THINK YOU NEED ONE NOW , CARL. THAT’S IF THEY DON’T DROP US IN ONE OF THOSE DAMNED AREAS THE GERMANS FLOODED AROUND STE- MERE- EGLISE. IF THEY DO WE’LL GET A BATH ALRIGHT AND IT WON’T BE IN WATER EITHER I‘TLL BE IN BLOOD.”
“ THAT’S FOR SURE.”
Carl had no way of knowing that he’d be killed by German flak not two minutes after jumping from the plane. What was left of his body was recovered and identified by his dog tags. it was sent home to his wife after we took Ste-Mere-Eglise . Our plane would drop down, then rise up again. Then drop down again from all the turbulence caused by all the other planes ahead of us and around us. The up and down motion was starting to make some of the other guys nauseous. Our sergeant had been in the cock pit talking to the pilots. As he came out of the cock pit he stopped in the middle of the isle way he looked up and down the isle.
“LISTEN UP YOU GUYS WE’RE OVER FRANCE NOW, THAT’S THE THIRD REICH DOWN THERE. SO IF YOU HAVE ANY FINAL PRAYERS, SAY THEM.”
“SARGE HOW LONG UNTIL THE DROP POINT?”
“TWENTY MINUTES, CHECK YOUR GEAR.”
“OK, SARGE.”
Each man checked his gear the best he could. Once the order is given to stand up, then hook up to the jump cable and then hold onto your static line. Then the order will be given again to check the mans gear in front of you. Each man checks the mans parachute in front of him making sure that there isn’t anything wrong with it. At the tail of the C-47 was the jump door. Above the jump door are two lights one red and one green. The red light stayed lit until we reach our drop zone then the red will go out and the green will come on. Each man stands with his hand on his static line once the green light comes on they follow the man in front of them to the jump door of the plane. Then each man jumps if any man freezes in the door way he is given a helping hand by the Sergeant who was the last man to jump. Then came the sound that scared the hell out of all of us, flak and anti- aircraft fire. The guys sitting near the jump door could see the yellow tracers coming up towards us.
Then a huge explosion rocked the whole damn plane. We didn’t need to ask what the explosion had been, we already knew. We had heard it a thousand times before, it’s a sound you’ll never forget once you hear it. One of the other troop transports had been hit by a flak shell. The shell had gone right through the fuselage and exploded inside the plane. Not one of those poor bastards had a chance to get out. A night fighter had strafed our plane filling the plane with bullets and in the process killing ten of our men. After that the sergeant had us get on the floor and stay there until it we were at the drop zone. Time seamed to slow down to the point where I thought we’d never get away from the guns and flak. The next thing I knew I was being pulled to my feet by my Para shoot harness. When I looked up to see who had a hold of me, I saw that it was Carl.
“IT’S TIME STAND UP AND HOOK UP.”
“OK.”
I stood up and attached my static line to the cable while Mike Gunston checked my shoot. Once he had finished he slapped me on the shoulder.
“YOUR OK, CHARLIE.”
“THANKS, MIKE.”
I hooked up to the jump cable with my left hand and held onto the rest of my gear with my right. The interior of the C-47 was illuminated in a blood red color by the red light over the jump door. Waiting for the green light was the worse part of jumping. It seemed as if it would never come. It seamed to me that I had been standing there with my hand on the static line for hours when the light changed. One by one my fellow solders jumped to meet what ever fate was in store for them. I watched Carl go out the jump door his static line pulling taught as he jumped away from the plane.
Then it was my turn to go. As soon as I went out the jump door the wind caught me and swept me away from the plane. I started falling towards the earth when a sudden bone breaking jerk yanked me up skywards as my shoot filled with air. Then I slowly started floating downward towards mother earth. As I dropped I couldn’t help, but wonder if I was going to make it to the ground before being killed or would some soldier get me while I floated down in my parachute. I landed on the very edge of one the flooded areas near Ste-Mere-Eglise with a bunch of other guys. After getting out of my parachute harness I grabbed my Thompson joined up with group of solders just to find out that they were the 101st and I belonged to the 82nd.
“Hey, Mack you seen any of the 82nd?”
“Hell, no I don’t even know where the hell I am.”
“What the hell happened, why is everything so screwed up.”
“Military planning they did this on purpose to confuse the krauts.”
It must have worked because at 0030 hours June 5th 1944 Ste-Mere-Eglise was taken by the 101st and my Division of the 82nd.
