We were now on French soil, being herded by some non-coms who were waiting for us as we got off the landing craft. “Double time, double time, hurry, hurry”! Strangers seem always to be yelling at us. If someone smiled, or said a kind word, I’d have cried in gratitude. But I guess we did not merit that kind of treatment, because we were freaking replacements! Eventually, they trucked us to a camp where we were to stay for a while waiting for assignments to front line outfits.
Now get this, the town was St.Mere-Eglise, site of the huge American WW1 cemetery. Was this an omen? Was this a prediction? How about a short cut to where I will eventually wind up? Ironic that I’m looking for some smiling friendly faces and I’m put in with the bunch of guys that have been sleeping here close to twenty-five years!