D-Day: What They Saw When They Landed

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We gave our personal things such as wallets and other identification to the guys in the security room, picked up our parachutes and steel helmets, got into the trucks and rode out to the planes. It was still raining and quite dark, and we knew there would be no delay on account of weather on this day. It had begun to sink in that we were involved in what was to be one of the greatest moments in history.

"THE PLANE IS BOUNCING LIKE SOMETHING GONE WILD." --Dwayne T. Burns A private with the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Burns, 19, landed behind enemy lines, far from his drop zone

At 22:30, all over England, engines started. We were ready to go. Now here we sat, each man alone in the dark with his own thoughts and fears. "Lord," I prayed, "please let me do everything right. Don't let me get anybody killed, and don't let me get killed either. I really think I'm too young for this. I should be home having a good time. Who ever told me I was a fighter anyway?" We blacked our faces with burnt cork. Some of the guys cut their hair Mohawk style. Some shaved it all off. Each trooper was going into combat in whatever style that suited him best. I left mine in a crew cut.

Finally, the signal came down to us to get aboard. We shook hands and wished one another good luck, saying, "We'll see you on the ground." We chuted up and pulled the adjustment straps down good and tight because we knew we were so loaded that we were going to get one hell of an opening shock. The two chutes, rifle, two bandoliers, cartridge belt, first-aid kit, shovel, canteen kit, jump knife, trench knife, bayonet, gas mask, land mine, rations, billfold, clean socks and underwear, toothbrush, New Testament and message book, plus other odds and ends--I must have weighed well over 300 lbs. Once we were chuted up, we had to stay on our feet because it would be impossible to get back up without help. We pushed and pulled one another up the steps just to get up the plane.

In the air, we start picking up flak, light at first. I know we have just crossed the coastline. Flak is getting heavy as we stand waiting for the green light. Now the plane's being hit from all sides. The noise is awesome. The roar of the engines, the flak hitting the wings and fuselage--and everyone is yelling, "Let's go!," but still the green light does not come on. The plane is bouncing like something gone wild. I can hear a ticking sound as machine-gun rounds walk across the wings. It's hard to stand up, and troopers are falling down and getting up; some are getting sick. Of all the training we had, there was not anything that prepared us for this. Then the red light goes out, and the green snaps on. We shuffle out the door into the dark fresh air.

I'm amazed at how quiet it is outside. We were to jump at 600 ft., but it seems to be much higher than that. I hear the sound as the ship fades away. I seem to be far south of our drop zone. It looks like I'm on the outer edge of all the action. To the north, I see tracers arcing across the sky. And in spite of all of this going on, I think of how beautiful they appear.