In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

4 ___________ "lei Belgique?" I don't think I can describe the feelings that raced over me as the prop wash whipped me through that free air. There was unbridled exhilaration, a wild joy at being alive. A moment earlier I'd been dead. Now I was born again. What a wonderful rebirth. I wondered why I was saved. How come my luck had held out through so many close calls? Suddenly my elation was replaced by concern for the rest of the crew. Where were the others? I looked for the ship. She was above me, still gliding down. I thought I had seen one chute open-which meant eight men were still in that death trap. I shouted and pleaded with them: "Get out of there, you bastards! Come on, bail out!" I lost sight of the plane and once again became completely concerned with myself. I had stopped spinning. There was no sensation offalling. Everything was so quiet and peaceful. Only someone who has ridden the waist of a B-17 before the days of the pressurized cabin can appreciate how noisy it is, the roar something between a boiler factory and a Seventh Avenue subway . Now the silence was overwhelming. Everything seemed to stop-noise, movement, even time. I had no way of judging how long I'd been falling. I didn't want to open my chute too soon because free fall speeds your descent, giving you a better chance to get away. I started to count to ten. By the time I got to eight I was nervous as hell and couldn't hold out. I reached over for the "D" ring on the left side of my chest pack. Where the hell was it? Somewhat panicky, I felt all over the left side. Then a flash of "lei Belgique?" 25 memory-of course, this was a chest pack, not the seat pack we had used in training. The handle was on the right. I found it and pulled. A short piece ofcable came loose in my hand. I looked at it. It should be longer, I thought. Maybe it was shot away? "Dammit! Do I have to go through this dying all over again?" I swear these were my exact words. Frantically, I reached down to rip open the flap. It was already open. The white umbrella chute was slowly trickling upward. I remembered the scene in The Great Dictator when Charlie Chaplin, thinking he is flying right side up, takes a drink from his canteen and the water falls upward. I was still engrossed in this curiosity when I felt myself yanked up chest first a hundred feet. It felt as ifmy head and feet had formed a "U" with my back. Now all movement seemed to stop. I started to look around for the plane and the other chutes. I spotted the ship off in the distance still above me. Three chutes were already open. There went another. And another. Thank God. Just as the seventh chute opened, that old Fort, smoke billowing behind her, dipped her left wing and, swerving gracefully, pointed her nose down for the final plunge. Suddenly I saw the Focke-Wulfcome down, heading straight for the cluster of chutes. The bastards had been known to strafe our boys in the air. I waited horrified and helpless. But he flew on past them and disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief. I began to concentrate on my own escape. I could see the ground more clearly now and tried to form a picture of the terrain. The sun was over my left shoulder. In front of me was a winding river. I was falling toward one side of the river; the rest of the crew, some distance away, seemed to be falling toward the other. With my back to the sun I mentally mapped a triangle of three towns: one ahead of me to the left, another on my left but slightly behind me, the largest to my right and forward. I decided to avoid all towns. I looked around for forest to hide in, Project MUSE (2024-04-19 17:40 GMT) 26 ESCAPE FROM HITLER'S EUROPE but could see none. There were only open fields, bordered by trees and what I surmised were hedgerows. And, of course, the river. I started to rehearse my French, repeating, "Je suis americain . Je veux me cacher. Je suis americain." The ground rushed up at me, interrupting my...

Share