D-Day for WJ Stigall

A Shower of Frogs, William J. Stigall, Jr.

I do not know if the men in Henry the Fifth's army knew, on the morn of Agincourt, that they were about to take part in one of the memorable moments of world history. I do not know if King Henry knew. In Shakespeare he is fully aware of it. He calls his little band about him and exhorts them with:

And Chrispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers."

I do not know how many men who were a part of the first hours of the invasion of France knew that they were to be a part of history. I suspect many knew. I knew. I wanted to see it, hear it, smell it, touch it, feel it. I had no wish to die in one of the great battles of the world's history. That did not seem heroic, noble, glamorous, or anything good to me. I simply wanted to be a part of it-to
get in the act, as it were. I wanted to do what I was expected to do and get back safely. Which is sort of wanting to have your cake and eat it, too.

Of course we had no inspiring speech to set us upon the stinking enemy. No Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester . . .

Being Americans, we never dreamed of remembering in after years Eisenhower, Monty, and Roosevelt, Bradley and Taylor, Ridgeway and Gavin. That we were few we knew; that we were a happy few I doubt; that we were a band of brothers-yes, in the deepest sense. The long buildup to invasion and the realities of the world put stirring orations out of reach. There was at that time, on that day, little sense of glory, none of honor sought. But there were other things.

There was excitement compounded of masses of men going through for the final time what they had been trained to do, and had shared doing, for months; the magnitude of roaring planes, planes by the score, revving up at full throttle, thundering upon thundering, in darkness just before dawn-compounded of precision hooking up of glider, two men for each glider, two men for each C-47;
compounded of a sense of endeavor, a feeling of support, a certain and clear knowledge of purpose.