Is this what it’s like to go crazy? Thinking things that weren’t fitting in the moment?

The ground got nearer and nearer as he passed through the cloud cover. He released his parachute and said a silent prayer that it operated as it meant to. Since losing John, he hadn’t taken a single jump for granted. He twisted his shoulder to adjust the rifle attached to his back, one of the new M1 Garands that were coveted in the army over the older 1903 Springfields. Airborne was considered an elite unit with first pick of the artillery.

He gripped it as if it were his salvation. Because it might have to be.

He raised it to eye level, as he’d been taught, and kept his finger far off of the safety catch. An accidental pull of the trigger could kill one of the other men falling through the area. Some motions, thankfully, had become second nature. The result of endless training that made these things instinctual.

Hello, France. I’d hoped we’d meet under different circumstances.

The gentle glide and the groans of the cows in the pastures below felt incongruous—he spared a thought there for Margaret—as the harsh sounds of warfare surrounded him. He bent his knees in preparation for the landing.

As his feet touched French soil, he curled into himself as he unlatched the parachute and removed the life vest they’d been issued in case of an unexpected landing over water. He swung the rifle around to his front and immediately set off, crouched as he ran in the direction they’d been instructed. They were supposed to meet up at Sainte-Mère-Église before heading to Carentan, but he was beginning to worry that they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Had the plane been blown off course?

He looked around as he hurried forward and saw that he was alone. Or so it seemed as the tall, wild grasses rose high above his minimized stance. He could hear rustles, but certain that they’d landed far off course and possibly into enemy territory, he didn’t know if they were friend or foe.

He reached into the pocket that covered his heart and pulled out the issued clicker.

Click. Click, went the thin metal plate.

Two times. That was the signal.

Click. Click. He heard in response.

He inched toward the sound and saw the white spade painted on the green helmet of the 506th PIR. Someone from his regiment.

His heartbeat slowed just a bit, making him aware that it had been racing in the first place.

“William!” He forced a whisper when he wanted to shout. There was no one he would have wanted to see more.

“Tom!”

The men embraced. Quick. Tight. Amazed that they’d made it this far alive.

Even as they knew that they had so much farther to go.

*  *  *