"Several slugs go through your glider fabric,
sounding much like a dull drum beat, but no one is hit. Tensely, your eyes dart about as
you look for a landing place, for high-tension wires, and for other gliders. Now you are
down to a 100 feet, and out of the corner of your eye you see a transmission tower, but no
wires. Just ahead is a pasture with barbed wire fences, and there are two gliders touching
down."
"Ahead a glider rolls to a stop, disgorging troops on the run.
Just past it is a burning glider with smoke and flames billowing into the air. Glancing to
your right, you see a small woods and approaching it, two gliders on the ground, but
rolling too fast. The first hits the trees, crumpling the nose and stopping abruptly. The
big tail lifts up and then drops. The second glider pilot tries desperately to ground
loop, but the right wing catches a tree and his glider is drawn into the woods also, with
its parts flying all over."
"But you are concentrating on the approach and landing, you flare,
touch down, put it up on the skids, and quickly come to a stop. You have accomplished your
primary mission. But while you were still moving, a rifle slug whined through the glider,
and the airborne troops started scrambling out of the doors."
