June 6, 1944: H-Hour
"Change with me!"
The bewildered look Lt.Harry Welsh gave him might have drawn a chuckle under any other circumstances, but a few hundred feet above the English Channel just didn't seem the time or place. "What?"
"Change seats with me!" George screamed again over the roar of the C-47's engines. He was almost certain that the smaller man was curseing under his breath along with the others beside of them at the request.
Chute packs went one way while leg bags went another causeing the mostly silent stick to fill with the sound of dull, uneasy laughter. "Jesus Christ, Luz!" Skip Muck yelled across from him, a glowing cigarette hanging from his lips "Are you that ready to go Kraut hunting?"
All George could do was give his signature half smile. If it ment going home sooner, then why not? But, sadly, that wouldn't be the George Luz way of answering. Pulling a pack of lucky strikes out from his pocket he plucked one of the strong wraped sticks out. "No I figured you guys would want a chance to kick my ass before the Krauts do."
Harry leaned over, hand held open for the pack to be passed his way. "Good- maybe this means he can annoy the Krauts down there enough to make them turn tail back to Germany."
"Oh ha ha. That made my sides hurt, si-" before the words would even leave the radio man's lips the plane was rocked back and forth from the flak outside. As if on cue the cigarette flew from his lips getting lost somewhere on the floor of the plane. "Shit!" Within an instant the red light was on and the doorman was up.
"Stand up!" The sound was a dull buzzing in his ear as flak blasted around them rocking the plane again. Glanceing out the nearest window, Luz could see the white tracers lighting up the night sky coming dangerously closer to their stick.
"Hook up!" Without thinking everyone raised their hands, snaping their static lines to where they needed to be.
"Equipment check! Sound off!" From the back of the C-47 the quit almost childlike whisper from the back man tickled at his ear. "20 ok!"
"19 ok!"
"18 ok!"
The numbers kept getting louder as did the sound of George's heart in his ears. Brown eyes darted to look up at the red light that filled the first half of the plane. Mentally he dared it to change to green. He wanted to go, he wanted out of the can they were stuck in. Behind him he heard Muck call out 'Four ok!"
"Three ok!" Harry yelled behind him and slaped his shoulder.
"Two ok!" George said when it was his turn, ears poping in the process.
"One ok! Come up and stand in the door!" the stick leader screamed out.
Soon all the men were leaning forward with their left feet forward ready to hurl themselves out the door when the light changes. Outside the plane started to dive as flak propelled its sharp forms towards the sardeened paratroopers. Somewhere behind him Luz heard a man scream "We're droping to fast!" and "Change the light! Change the light!"
As if on command the light at the door turned green. The first man was out the door faster than Luz could take a breath to prepair himself for the shock of cold night air. As if keeping their word Welsh and Muck pushed him forward enough that the next step he took sent him flying out into the sky over the DZ.
The feeling that should have been a rush of excitement wasn't anything that George was expecting. As soon as he had exited the plane the propblast jerked him forward hard, tearing the leg bag where all his gear, includeing his radio, plumiting towards the occupied land below.
Trying as hard as he could the bag was lost in the night the instant the parachute snaped open. Words poped out of his mouth faster than anyone else in the company could muster- all that would have led to soap in his mouth if he had done it at home. He had nothing save the few smaller yet important items he had managed to cram into his musette bag and various pockets on his jumpsuit. Why the HELL did they have to drop those on us the day of the jump? he screamed in his mind.
This wasn't a good start to the beginning of a war.
The bewildered look Lt.Harry Welsh gave him might have drawn a chuckle under any other circumstances, but a few hundred feet above the English Channel just didn't seem the time or place. "What?"
"Change seats with me!" George screamed again over the roar of the C-47's engines. He was almost certain that the smaller man was curseing under his breath along with the others beside of them at the request.
Chute packs went one way while leg bags went another causeing the mostly silent stick to fill with the sound of dull, uneasy laughter. "Jesus Christ, Luz!" Skip Muck yelled across from him, a glowing cigarette hanging from his lips "Are you that ready to go Kraut hunting?"
All George could do was give his signature half smile. If it ment going home sooner, then why not? But, sadly, that wouldn't be the George Luz way of answering. Pulling a pack of lucky strikes out from his pocket he plucked one of the strong wraped sticks out. "No I figured you guys would want a chance to kick my ass before the Krauts do."
Harry leaned over, hand held open for the pack to be passed his way. "Good- maybe this means he can annoy the Krauts down there enough to make them turn tail back to Germany."
"Oh ha ha. That made my sides hurt, si-" before the words would even leave the radio man's lips the plane was rocked back and forth from the flak outside. As if on cue the cigarette flew from his lips getting lost somewhere on the floor of the plane. "Shit!" Within an instant the red light was on and the doorman was up.
"Stand up!" The sound was a dull buzzing in his ear as flak blasted around them rocking the plane again. Glanceing out the nearest window, Luz could see the white tracers lighting up the night sky coming dangerously closer to their stick.
"Hook up!" Without thinking everyone raised their hands, snaping their static lines to where they needed to be.
"Equipment check! Sound off!" From the back of the C-47 the quit almost childlike whisper from the back man tickled at his ear. "20 ok!"
"19 ok!"
"18 ok!"
The numbers kept getting louder as did the sound of George's heart in his ears. Brown eyes darted to look up at the red light that filled the first half of the plane. Mentally he dared it to change to green. He wanted to go, he wanted out of the can they were stuck in. Behind him he heard Muck call out 'Four ok!"
"Three ok!" Harry yelled behind him and slaped his shoulder.
"Two ok!" George said when it was his turn, ears poping in the process.
"One ok! Come up and stand in the door!" the stick leader screamed out.
Soon all the men were leaning forward with their left feet forward ready to hurl themselves out the door when the light changes. Outside the plane started to dive as flak propelled its sharp forms towards the sardeened paratroopers. Somewhere behind him Luz heard a man scream "We're droping to fast!" and "Change the light! Change the light!"
As if on command the light at the door turned green. The first man was out the door faster than Luz could take a breath to prepair himself for the shock of cold night air. As if keeping their word Welsh and Muck pushed him forward enough that the next step he took sent him flying out into the sky over the DZ.
The feeling that should have been a rush of excitement wasn't anything that George was expecting. As soon as he had exited the plane the propblast jerked him forward hard, tearing the leg bag where all his gear, includeing his radio, plumiting towards the occupied land below.
Trying as hard as he could the bag was lost in the night the instant the parachute snaped open. Words poped out of his mouth faster than anyone else in the company could muster- all that would have led to soap in his mouth if he had done it at home. He had nothing save the few smaller yet important items he had managed to cram into his musette bag and various pockets on his jumpsuit. Why the HELL did they have to drop those on us the day of the jump? he screamed in his mind.
This wasn't a good start to the beginning of a war.