October 7
Shortly before 11:30 p.m. the converted Royal Air Force bomber began rolling down the runway at Keevil airfield. Members of the 12th
Yorkshire Parachute Battalion, laden with their equipment and weapons, were huddled in the bay, deep in their own thoughts. As the wheels of the aircraft ceased to roll, Capt. Philip Burkinshaw realized they were airborne. He vividly recalled his thoughts at that moment:
My mind was awhirl with mixed emotions and, I must confess, some fears, particularly the fear of being afraid. Would we be dropped on or near to the dropping zone, or perhaps due to change in the weather or wind speed, or a fault in navigation, well behind enemy lines; would I find the rendezvous; how would I shape up in front of my platoon in the stark reality and unaccustomed horrors of battle, and would I command and guide them as they deserved. The moment of reckoning was inexorably approaching for me, as it was for thousands of others in the air, on land and on sea.419
Anyone who has experienced combat can identify with Captain Burkinshaw’s fears. Most would agree that the fear of not measuring up in the eyes of others is acute, especially before going into action for the first time. No one knows how he or she will react in a crisis until that “moment of reckoning.” We should all realize, of course, that such a moment is ahead for every human being. We are all approaching the end of life and the great unknown at a speed we cannot measure. Our last moment may arrive in due course or unexpectedly. God has provided the one and only way to alleviate our instinctive fear of this event. Through his Son, we are assured that our “moment of reckoning” will be a joyous reunion, as we take our place with him in eternity.
But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
October 8
The British war correspondent sat nervously in the eerie glow of the aircraft’s interior red lights. The paratroopers’ faces appeared slightly blue and the tips of their cigarettes white as they joked among themselves and waited. After a sharp turn over the coast the exterior lights and rotating beacons of all the aircraft in the formation were extinguished, giving them a ghostlike quality as they headed out over the Channel toward their Normandy drop zones. The correspondent described the final minutes before this group of men would start the invasion of Europe:
Someone called out: “Ten minutes to go.” The paratroop commander talked quietly to his men. A final briefing. I shall never forget the scene up there in those last fateful minutes, those long lines of motionless, grimfaced young men burdened like pack-horses so that they could hardly stand unaided. Just waiting… So young they looked, on the edge of the unknown. And somehow, so sad. Most sat with eyes closed as the seconds ticked by. They seemed to be asleep, but I could see lips moving wordlessly. I wasn’t consciously thinking of anything in particular, but suddenly I found the phrase “Thy rod and Thy staff” moving through my mind again and again. Just that and no more.420
The apparent tranquility of this scene is betrayed by the many lips “moving wordlessly” in the semidarkness. Who can imagine the inner turmoil of a group of men facing a night parachute drop into enemy territory? The dangers multiply as each man visualizes all that can happen. I have great empathy for the unfortunate souls who had only the cold comfort of their own thoughts in these moments. Fortunately, we know there were many who had a place to go outside themselves. Moving lips is sure evidence that some were seeking God in this fearful moment. Prayer is the only activity I know of that guarantees us a way outside ourselves. We need to build this bridge with God during the quiet times in our lives so that it will be there during those fearful moments when our minds want to multiply the dangers ahead.
Because Jesus lives forever, he has a permanent priesthood. Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.
October 9
As the C-47 neared the drop zone it was bouncing furiously. Turbulent air and flak were giving the paratroopers a rough ride. Malcolm Brannon was number 15 in a stick of eighteen jumpers, and, with all his gear, weighed about three hundred pounds. To stand up and hook up to the static line were not easy tasks, and to remain standing was almost impossible as the aircraft rose and fell violently. As the light flashed green and the jumpmaster shouted, “Go!” he pushed those in front as he was pushed from behind, out the door into the darkness.
Within seconds Brannon felt the sharp and reassuring jolt of his opening canopy. Enemy tracers were lacing the air around him, and he began praying for his friends and for himself. As he neared the ground he became aware that he was drifting backwards. Fearing a bad landing with his heavy equipment, he tried unsuccessfully to maneuver his parachute so that he could hit the ground facing forward. As time ran out, he tensed for the worst. Suddenly there was a swish as he passed through the limbs of a tree and a slow deceleration as he came to a stop one foot from the ground. He said later, “I was under HIS guidance I knew and I said, ‘Thanks.’”421 Amazingly, he was also reminded in that moment of an old poem expressing reverence for the same thing that had saved him:
Only God can make a tree, and only God can give a frightened soldier the faith that a greater power is with him in the midst of danger.
