Читать книгу Remembering D-day: Personal Histories of Everyday Heroes - Martin Bowman - Страница 50

an English schoolgirl.

‘Every day we’d heard the bombers go out and every evening we heard them return. But there was something different enough to send us, at dawn, from our beds to windows that looked out on chimney pots and slates and beyond to the clear blue sky with tiny white clouds. The bombers seemed to come from nowhere in perfect, geometric formation. They kept coming and coming; as if the whole sky belonged to them as they roared away to deal death and destruction. It was D-Day.’