Shower of Frogs Chapter 15: Into Holland

The gliders and C-47s were packed nose to tail, dozens of them in a long double line on one of the concrete slabs leading onto the main runway. It was approximately one o'clock on the afternoon of September 23, 1944. There was little activity around the planes other than mechanics checking and rechecking those most durable of all planes, the C-47s. They warmed up a few motors, shut them off, warmed up others, shut them off. I wondered if they were nervous.

I walked over to my glider and put my map case on my jeep seat. The case contained writing paper, pencils, and two letters received that morning. Sergeant Birdwell, the motor mechanic who stood up behind the jeep into Normandy, Corporal Gerry, who was in charge of a supply squad and who had sat beside me so many times, were joined by a new man. All three dumped their stuff in the jeep and began waiting.

Sergeant Birdwell was my superior. We took turns cursing each other. It was frequently heated but never lasted very long. He seemed heavier than I'd seen him for a long time. He was also worried. Glider pilots were scarce now. There were not enough to supply us with a copilot, so Sergeant Birdwell, who knew absolutely nothing about flying a glider, was to be copilot. If a bullet removed the pilot it was up to Sergeant Birdwell. Just what he was expected to do no one had any idea. Sergeant Birdwell was irritated.

Corporal Gerry, tireless and unflustered as ever, was chewing on the butt of a cigar and grinning. He said, "Looks like we go this time." He was not so relaxed as he acted. In a soft Carolina accent he turned to the new man, saying, "How ya doin'?" The new man nodded affirmatively. Corporal Gerry let it go at that and went in search of our officer.

Somewhere the signal was given. Tow planes ahead of me, followed by their gliders, were pulling out of formation and onto the runway. We in the glider, shouting above the roar, agreed that if this mission was to be called off it had better be damn quick. In minutes we were on the runway, speeding, bobbing, dipping, and rising off the ground. We quickly gained altitude and went into the familiar circling formation until we joined the long column. For the second time that summer I was leaving England. For the second time I was a part of an invasion about which I knew absolutely nothing. We were going to Holland, in broad· daylight, and it was a long flight.