All It Takes

June 5, 1944

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June 5, 1944

Portland Bill, U.K.

The rough storm had finally cleared out, and left in its place a grey overhang of fog, an ominous start to such a large operation. There were men scattered around the airfield, hesitant in case of another stand down order, but nonetheless filled with both excitement and nerves. When no such orders stopped them from entering the C-47's they knew it was time, their C.O's addressing them and then helping them into the planes, assisting when each of the paratroopers struggled with the weight of the their equipment.

Mitchell let himself be hoisted up off the ground of the airfield before standing in line to board with his comrades. The bright red patch with the double 'A's of the 82nd showed proudly on his left arm, signifying his belonging to the group, a paratrooper not by right, but hard training. He was ready, his face decorated with the dark greens of camouflage, and his mind focused on the map they had been told to study. D-day was just beginning for the paratroopers, even if the Allied Forces coming by sea wouldn't land until tomorrow.

He gripped the handle near the step ladder as he stumbled his way into the plane, and sat down somewhere near the middle, right beside Turner, who nodded tightly to him. Not one soldier spoke as the rest of the plane filled up, each completely silent until the C.O. boarded, and the ladder taken away. The silence then lifted as the rotors of the plane spun to life, their whirling creating not just a loud roar, but a vibration that rocked the interior and its inhabitants.

There was a moment where the plane remained on standby, and then slowly it moved forward. The walls of the plane were thick enough to shield them from the rough winds at higher altitudes, but still he could hear the roar of hundreds of Douglas C-47s as they began to taxi down the runway and take off one by one. He couldn't recall the exact number of transport planes, but he remembered it was somewhere in the four hundred range, a number he couldn't have imagined before this moment. There was a shift in the plane as it pulled forward and followed the planes before it, his body sinking into the seat as it ascended, gaining altitude little by little.

Slowly, he found himself relaxing into the bench of the plane, his grip firm but loose on his equipment bag, and then closing his eyes. Sleep found him only for that period in the beginning of the trip while they flew over Allied territory. By the time night had fallen, they were approaching on France, and the Day of Days.