Member-only story
D-Day
Today is the day we died.
The Horsa glider pitched and rolled as it was buffeted by turbulence. He looked down the flimsy craft, the other 29 men looking a mixture of nervous, pensive and various shades of airsick. He focused on the task at hand, getting his men through the next hours of their lives. He was up first, he knew the risks and the likely outcome, and though he had hit the sauce when he was picked, now his head was clear. With a dull clunk the glider separated from the towing line, and gradually they began to descend. It was getting real. More buffeting, and through the dark night they fell. Then with a shattering crash the glider struck the ground. 00:05 6th June.
He heard himself yell: “Everyone out!”
29 other men followed him out the door, and up ahead the dim outline of the bridge some 300 yards stood out in the gloom. Their target, the bridges at Benouville, were just a short distance away. Moving forward, he urged his men on “Come on 25, come on 25!”
A sharp retort came from over the bridge and he fell, dead. It was 00:16 on D Day.
