reality of the situation. In spite of my explanation, it was still necessary for the others in the waist to put Jimmy's hand on the ripcord and give him an assist out the door. The last one out of the waist checked out with me just before jumping. I could see Jack and Charlie leave through the door under my seat. John left the seat next to me and exited the same door. It was eerie to be alone in the plane. I set the autopilot, put the plane on a course heading for the North Sea, and climbed down to the door, where I waited for a moment before rolling out head first. My thinking was that if I thought too much about doing this it would only make things worse.....so I dove.

The parachute was fastened to my chest and we had been instructed that pulling the ripcord while facing down would cause the pilot chute to scrape across the face. When I saw the plane I figured I was looking up, so I pulled the ring and waited a few seconds (which seemed like hours) for the chute to open. The jerk when it opened was not insignificant but my gratitude that it did overshadowed the discomfort. It was peacefully quiet coming down. Much of the drop was through the clouds and when I emerged from the bottom of the overcast, I had little time to swing myself into a downwind position for landing. I landed in a soft, but dried up creek bed, and was greeted by my friends with the pitchforks.

As soon as the initial encounter was over, we decided that we were friends, and shook hands. We all spoke loudly and distinctly in an effort to be understood but those efforts did not help us to translate. However, I was able to figure out their question when they asked, "Avion kaput?", and answered with my entire French vocabulary, "Oui". They helped me roll up my parachute and then escorted me a couple of hundred yards up a gradual slope in the terrain to a small restaurant/tavern in a small settlement on the edge of Halle, southwest of Brussels, Belgium.

When the proprietors learned my plight and that I was an American, they sat me at a table and brought a sandwich and some beer. There was a man in the place who could speak a little English and he informed me that I had been honored by having been given a drink from a prized bottle of gin. There were only six or eight people in the tavern at the time, and as if to protect the celebrity from his fans they would not allow anyone else in. It wasn't long before there was a crowd outside and people were gathered at each window looking inside. Some phone calls were made and after an hour or so a Jeep arrived with two British soldiers to pick me up. (We were in the British sector).

I finished the repast and thanked my hosts and said goodbye. There were now about fifty or sixty people gathered outside, and when I came out of the tavern they cheered and clapped. The "ham" in me came out and I picked up a little three year old and held him high to the delightful screams of the crowd. Each person wanted a handshake. They all returned my waves, and “V” for Victory

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