Preparing for and Surviving WWII's Longest Day

Army, Jun 2004 by Curreri, Joe

The full drama of the fateful hour now began to unfold. We had a keen sense that this was going to decide the fate of the world. We trained for six months, flying day and night for that one day-D-Day-the greatest secret of World War II.

Practice, practice, practice. Our training flights with paratroopers aboard and towing gliders were real-so real, that we thought at times it was the "McCoy," until the "Abort" came through. In between, we hauled freight, carried troops and VIPs, and served as a hospital ship with wounded and nurses aboard.

During those training maneuvers, many mishaps occurred. Flight and ground crews were young and inexperienced. One day, I spotted a troubled C-47 above our airfield. Suddenly, it turned sideways in an arc and plunged straight to the ground, exploding into a fire ball. I happened to be nearby and ran to the site. I came across a scene that is seared in my memory-scattered, burning body parts. I did find one man still breathing and yelled for the onrushing fire and ambulance crews.

For three days flight crews were grounded. A somber chaplain tried to unscramble the unbelievable.

Another incident put my life in jeopardy. As we towed a glider, the nylon rope broke and whiplashed into our plane, damaging the rudder.

As D-Day approached, orders came from 82 Troop Carrier Squadron, 436 Troop Carrier Group, Membury Airfield, that crew chiefs and radio operators had to learn to land their planes in case pilots were disabled.

I had always wanted to be a pilot. But landing a plane? With no experience? I admired our pilot and my apprehension somewhat eased when I took over the controls to land, with Brassesco in the co-pilot's seat ready to take over. But guess what? I made a "three-point landing!"-three points on the runway, bouncing the hell out of clay Pigeon. But, as they say in the flying business, any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.

Keyed up by months of training, we were anxious to go. Although the odds were frightful, physically and spiritually we were ready to go. Services were held at the chapel. Boy, did I pray!

May 2,1944: all combat flying crews were penned up in their barracks for security reasons, ringed by armed sentries.

"We took extreme measures to keep the secret of the invasion," Eisenhower said later. "When we started to move the assault troops to embarkation places in England, we penned them up and wouldn't let them out. We couldn't afford to have them running around in the villages talking to everyone.

"On top of that, we did a lot to confuse the enemy, activating phantom armies, inflating rubber tanks and armor in southeast England's tip, the closest point to Pas de Calais, brought over Gen. Patton to fuel the comprehensive deception, and bombed Calais to make the Germans believe we'd strike there."

Confined to our barracks, we had no idea of the deception plans. all we knew was that D-Day was here. At a moment when every fiber of my being was inflamed to action, I had long hours of utterly unwanted leisure in which to contemplate the unfolding of the war. And I began to realize these individual sorrows, these private baptisms of fire, are parts of the great sacrifices laid on the altar of American freedom, helping to make up the immense amount to pay for our liberties.