aircraft and gliders. They were wearing their war-paint: special recognition signs painted on only the night before, after the camp had been `sealed'. No-one who now entered it would be permitted to leave or write or telephone from it until the invasion had taken place.
After the drive round, Major Griffiths, who was to pilot the General's glider, took Gregory up for a twenty-minute flight in it. There was a stiff wind so it was a little bumpy, but that did not worry him. The roar from Macnamara's towing -craft came plainly back to them; then, as he cast off, there me a sudden silence and a few minutes later they glided safely back on to a runway.
Next Gregory attended a preliminary briefing. It took the form of a colour film showing a part of France. For those in the long, darkened room it was just as though they were seated a huge aircraft flying over the country shown in the film. Again and again they seemed to be carried over the German held beaches to the fields on which the paratroops were to be dropped and the gliders come down, while the commentator pointed out the principal landmarks by which the pilots could identify their objectives.
Back in the big mess Gregory found it now packed to capacity with equal numbers of officers in khaki and Air Force blue. They all looked wonderfully fit and their morale was terrific. Macnamara introduced him to General Gale, a huge man with a ready laugh, shrewd eyes, a bristling moustache td a bulldog chin.
They soon discovered that they were the same age. `And a damn' good vintage, too,' said the General.
An officer asked the General what weapon he was going to take for the battle. He roared with laughter. `Weapon! What the hell do I want with a weapon? If I have the luck to get near any of those so-and-sos I'll use my boot to kick them in the guts.'
After dinner Gregory drank and laughed with a score of officers; then, as they drifted off to bed, he stayed up for another hour talking to General Gale alone. Among other things they discussed the qualities that make a good leader, and the General said.
`Efficiency; that's the only thing that counts. If the men know that you really know your job, they'll follow you blindly anywhere.'
Gregory did not agree. He argued that efficiency might be nine-tenths- of the game, but the last tenth was personality. To make his point he instanced that his companion was wearing light grey jodhpurs instead of battle-dress.
`What's that got to do with it?' the General wanted to know. `I wear the damned things because they're comfortable and I hate the feel of that beastly khaki serge.'
`Exactly,' Gregory laughed. `Most people would be shy about dressing differently, but you don't care a hoot. You've the courage of your convictions and if you have them about clothes you must also have them about running your show.'
When they at last went to bed they were a little worried about the weather, but they knew that a postponement of the operation would not even be considered unless it became exceptionally bad. That Saturday night hundreds of ships were already moving to their concentration points, so the security of the whole operation might be jeopardized if the invasion were put off even for a single day.
In the morning the weather had worsened. Nevertheless a Wing Commander Bangey took Gregory up for a flight in one of the paratroop-dropping aircraft. They did a practice run over a diagonal road that had a certain similarity to a road in the target area and the crew went through the exact drill they would follow when they were dropped in France.
Then, when Gregory got back, the blow fell. At 11.30 the. Station Commander sent for him to tell him that the operation would not take place that night.
Both Gregory and General Gale were utterly appalled. They were the only people on the station who realized the full implications of a postponement. There were now over four thousand ships which had moved up in the night and many thousands of smaller craft massed round the Isle of Wight. The enemy had only to send over one recce plane and he would learn that the invasion was just about to start. That would give him twenty-four hours in which to rush additional troops to the French coast and when our troops landed they would find every gun manned.
Worse, the Germans might send their whole bomber force over that Sunday night to the Solent and if they did it must result in the most ghastly massacre among our close-berthed stationary shipping.
Fortunately, no more than a dozen people on the station knew the date that had been decided for D-Day, so remained unaware of the postponement and the terrible consequences that might arise from it. They knew only that, the camp having been sealed, D-Day must be imminent, and their joy was unbounded' at the thought of at last being able to put into real use the drills they had practised for so long. In consequence that night the crowded mess -was a scene of even greater excitement and mirth. Both soldiers and airmen. Were offering long odds that within a week of the invasion the enemy would collapse and the war be over, but finding few takers. About nine o'clock a sing-song started. The station doctor,-Squadron Leader Evan Jones, produced his accordion and they made the rafters ring with all the old favourites, from She was poor but she was honest' to 'Auld Lang Syne'. Then three-quarters of an hour after midnight Gregory learned from he General's A.D.C. that a signal had just come in. The great decision had been taken. The following night the show was definitely on. - The morning of Monday June 5th passed quietly. Very few people knew as yet that this was D minus 1. But at lunchtime the whispered word went round, `Final briefing at three o'clock.'
For the past week the Italian campaign had become the forgotten front, but while Gregory was still at lunch it was suddenly announced that General Alexander had captured Rome. An outburst of cheering greeted this splendid news and Gregory was particularly delighted, because everybody in he War Cabinet Offices regarded `Alex' as by far the best of our Generals, and that his triumph should not have been spoilt by coming after D-Day was a most happy occurrence. In the afternoon there were three briefings, each taking an your, for the three separate but coordinated operations.
Major- General Crawford, _ the Director of Air Operations War Office, had arrived from London and with him was Air Vice-Marshal Hollinghurst, the A.O.C. of the Group. Group Captain Surplice opened the proceedings. by reading Orders of the Day from General Eisenhower and the Air Commanderin-Chief, Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory. Then, having run through the general lay-out, he asked General Gale to describe the part his Division was to play.
The General said that his task was to protect the left flank of the Allied Armies. To achieve- this three landings would be made to the east of the River Orne. It was imperative that a large fortified battery that enfiladed the assault beaches should be silenced. One of the first parties to land would raid a small chateau and seize a car known to be in its garage. Two paratroopers, both Austrians, would drive the car hell-for-leather towards the steel gates of the emplacement, shoutingin German, `Open the gates! Open the gates! The invasion has started.'
The Germans would have heard the aircraft overhead, so it was hoped that they would open up; then the paratroopers would hurl bombs through which would make it impossible to close the gates again. It was a suicide job and might not come off. To make certain of silencing the battery, the General intended to crash-land three gliders across the fort's concrete and barbed-wired surrounding ditch.