Evening star., 1941-04-13
By Drew Middleton,

tells his people and the world that the
hour of decision is at hand.
Day bombing of unprecedented fury
pounds the coast from Southampton to
the Wash. The r. A. F., marrying the
bombers, finds time to report two more
conveys in the North Sea and prepara-
tions for embarkation of troops at Bou-
logne, Calais. aLorient, Brest and Bor-
deaux
Weary bomber pilots, returning from
raids on these ports, report hell of
lot of 'Schmitts around the ports" The
casualties lengthen faces in the r. A. F.'s
bomber command.
At dusk British sentry on Southern
beach sees grotesque shape loom out of
the Channel mist. He barks few crisp
words into the field telephone. Junkers
dive bombers scream down from the sky
at the defenders of the coasts
Then he sights his Bren gun on the
leading barge and the chatter of small
arms and machine gun fire runs up
and down the beach from a hundred
hidden nests.
Battle of Beaches Begins.
The battle of the beaches has be-
gun.
This beach, a semi circular bit of sand
backed by chalk cliffs, is an annex to
hell. From dlapidated beach houses,
from concealed pillboxes comes the rifle
and machine gun fire of the infantry.
The air is heavy with the drone of
many motors. In the sky above, British
| fighters slash at the Germans seeking
| local command of the air.
From back in the hills come the shells
| from 6, and 10 inch guns, dropping
methodically by squares" in the surf
now crowded with the invaders barges.
A Blenheim bomber breaks through
the German fighters and lays its stick of
bombs across the water.
One two three. All misses.
! Then two binding flashes. Twin COL
umns of shattered bodies, water and
twisted steel rise into the air. The other
barges falter then come on, humping
the waves created by the explosion.
requirements, dizzy from noise and the
| ilCdNulb Cdl Ill, dPPCeA W CetnS O4AN oAiSSfh
of the gray green tide of Nazis.
Here and there men meet in that od-
dity of modern warfare, hand-to-hand
combat. A lance corporal of the Guards
tosses away his empty tommy gun and
goes for a German with his bayonet. The
figures struggle until the great white
flash of an exploding bomb envelops
them.
r. F. Fights With All 1t Has.
Three large barges are at shore with
men and small tanks pouring from them.
Another barge is sinking and fourth
drifts aimlessly in the surf, its passengers
dead after two hits by 60-pounder shells.
The rattle of small arms, the thud OF
bombs, the high-pitched whine of heavy
shells, the shouts of fighting men and
the screams of the dying are mingled.
This is one beach. The same scene
continues on hundred others.
Other battles have started. Conveyed
by fighters, troop carriers and gliders
are heading inland toward the airflelds
and communications centers.
Lie IT, "A E 10 lSiitiiiS Wied CFCiJ eAiAAie
it has. Fighter pilots bring their planes
down, refuel, reload and return to the
upper air. The drum of eight-gun fight
ers in action fills the air over the peace
full countryside as the fighter command
hacks it's way into bomber formations
The bombers methodically bomb the
barges and the beaches, foray out to sea
after new targets.
Even Harvard trainers, scantily armed
take the air. The landscape is marked
by columns of black smoke from burning
aircraft.
Some of the troop carriers, many OF the
parachutists get through.
A shepherd on the Yorkshire moors
sees white pear float to earth a mile
away. He unslings his Springfield, sends
his son to the village to tell the minister