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A STRAFING EXPERIENCE

July, 1944

 

When I had a little time later on I sat down and wrote the following description of experiencing an air attack.

The roar of enemy fighter-bombers; beads of sweat oozing from my skin; my stomach rolling as I can taste that last K-ration; the ack-ack of anti-aircraft searching for the enemy planes; sound of the motors as they come closer; a cry from an excited soldier to hit the dirt; the hiss of machine guns as a plane strafes our bivouac area; clouds of yellow dust created by the flying shrapnel; black puffs of smoke floating away into the sky; the call for medics as two men are wounded; a hurried prayer begging the Almighty to protect me; a whistling bomb dropping to the ground; a loud blast as the missile explodes; a yell of hysterics as a German plane gets a direct hit and tumbles to the ground; a sigh of relief as a squadron of P-51's chase the enemy aircraft away. These few minutes of strafing always seemed like hours.

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