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Category : Archive Stories, Kay Summersby
Tags: AFHQ, Air Chief Marshal Leigh-Mallory, Anvil, Arnold, Bangor, Beaches, Bradley, Buzz Bomb, C-47, Capt Larry Hansen, Cherbourg, Chief of Staff, Combined Chiefs of Staff, D-Day, Deputy Theater Commander, Empire State Building, Florida, Fort Benning, Gen "Jumbo" Wilson, Gen de Gaulle, General John G. H. Lee, H-Hour, Hungary, Iceland, Invasion, King, King George VI, Leningrad, London, Lt John S. D. Eisenhower, Manhattan, Marshall, Mattie Pinette, Mediterranean Forces, Montgomery, Nazi Europe, New York State, Normandy, North Atlantic, North-Africa, Portsmouth, Potomac, President Roosevelt, Prestwick, Prime Minister, Ramsay, Sgt Farr, SHAEF, Southern France, Southwick CP, Stalin, Supreme Commander, Telegraph Cottage, Tex Lee, Trieste, Virginia, War Room, Washington, West Point, Winston Churchill
The rest of that day is history. Personally, I spent it praying for the invaders … and, like the rest of his official family, aching with sympathy for our apprehensive Boss.
Gen Eisenhower stood the appalling strain for another day. Then, in the early morning of June 7 it was 0720-H, just twenty-six hours after H-Hour he left for Normandy’s beaches. I fled to the lonely comfort of our trailer-headquarters. Working on the General’s “fan mail” never seemed so difficult, so unimportant; but it helped smother worries.
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