"I have thought about this, the putting down on paper of my war-time years, for over thirty years and I'm still sure I have not forgotten.

We were called Paratroopers because of our chutes that brought us to the ground. Our training was for mass use in big invasions; several divisions at a time. Each one of us knew the chance he took just to get to the ground, let alone his location to fight from, always on the enemy's home ground. It was always like saying we had two chances, slim and none! Sure, we knew all of this and what's more, we asked for it. We dressed, looked, acted, and just plain were different. The whole world looked up to Paratroopers. We were the glory of our time.

I would start by saying, first, I did not miss a single day once I joined the 101st Airborne (502nd Paratrooper Regiment, 1st Battalion, "C" Company, 2nd Platoon) in May, 1943, until November, 1945. All of which was spent in "C" Co. from Private to 1st Sergeant. I did not get a scratch in all of the division's time it was oversees. By scratch I mean in the true sense, something that was bad enough to put me out of action. In fact, I was never on sick call!!

Come along with my sharp and very sound memory of my day to day life, from the biggest airborne jumps ever made; "D"-Day invasion of Normandy, France, to the daytime jump into Holland and the start of the great race north for Arnheim under the British Field Marshall Montgomery.

Then the call for help with the great German breakthrough and our ride into the Bulge. This time by cattle trucks only to unload at a place in Belgium called Bastogne!! Then what it was really like at the "Front" in those last days in the war; and into the first days of the army of occupation."

Layton Black Jr