Sunday, July 14, 2013

Jul

14

1943

Parachute assault on the Primasole Bridge

I saw what seemed to be a galaxy of coloured globes floating leisurely above the land. They peeled away from a dark mass, which I took to be a hill, and danced towards us like a swarm of angry bees rising from an upturned hive. They curved over, coming faster every second, then they were flaming comets roaring and crackling about the plane in streaks of light. We were running through the curtain of light flak – an interlocking apron of tracer shells flicking up in intricate patterns of gold, red and white.