 of the United States Army, and the men of the U.S. troop carrier forces who dropped them on their hold or die missions behind enemy lines. It could happen in the Philippines or the Western Front, in Italy, anywhere our men are fighting. The paratrooper and the air transport pilot have created a new kind of aerial military warfare, putting the two dimensions of ground and air together. They're proud of their role, proud because they realize and accept the odds against a long life. You're a Robert L. Fry of United Press? That's right, am I on time? Yeah. My name is Hank Stansberry, you're flying with me. Thanks, glad to know you. Your attention, please. Individual maps you'll observe have their drop zones marked. The course will be under plan A. Stay in line. Keep formations tight. Remember, they're probably... Their lives depended on those instructions. Navigators study their maps. Radio operators made notes. Pilots unconsciously ran their fingers over their pistol holsters. Ventures scraped on the cement floors, the men got up. The co-pilot and I walked out into the early morning air toward the giant transports. One way or round trip? That's not okay. Don't jump for me. I know, you've got a pilot's story. Listen to those paratroopers. Sounding off, they're tough. You said it. This was done in by... Okay, Sergeant. Meet Bob Fry of United Press. He's coming along for the ride. Hello, Fry. Glad to know you're Sergeant. Excuse me. Hey, Joe! That shoot's too tight around your leg. Glarsen it. Okay, Sergeant. The stuff they got on me is heavy and stuff. Sink a ship of all the damn junk. Hello, Joe. Hiya, mister. A lot of equipment you got there. Must weigh 100 pounds. Yeah, it feels like 200. Say, you ain't one of us. How come you're going on this flight? Oh, just going along for a story. Not jumping, though. I get you, correspondent. Do you have to go? No, strictly voluntary. Well, mister, you're nuts. All right, man. Get aboard! While the 13 paratroopers and I occupied the big barn like interior, we sat on bucket seats, lengthwise of the plane, facing each other, waiting for the takeoff. Appeared startled by the lone outcry, sought the privacy of their own thoughts. I watched Joe jab a knife into a can of tomato juice. Have some, Mr. Fry. Hey, Sarge, what do we do if we're hit? Be sure you hit first, and I'll tell you. Come on, give me that tomato juice. Say, I hear there's a west wind over the drop zone. Yeah, it'll blow us right over, isn't it? It's for you guys to come down together. They won't be hunting all over. Hell, I'm going for you. Doc likes to kill us, Mr. Fry. He's a good egg. Cigarette, Sergeant? Attention increased. Most of the boys dozed off but pretended to sleep to ease their nerves. They told me that dozing off was the best thing for jittery nerves. I was about to try it when the copilot made his way back into the cabin. Better get into that flax suit, Fry. Hey, it looks like a suit of armor. How's it go over this Maywest in parachute? Believe it or not, it weighs about 100 pounds. Here, stand up. I'll help you. OK. Come on, alive, this stuff is plenty heavy. If you want to get out of it in a hurry, just pull this red cord in front, OK? Red cord in front. OK, thanks. I'll see you later. On and on, we're drawn. Closer we approached our objective, the more restless the paratroopers became. One of them tossed a lighted cigarette to a pal down at the other end of the plane. Another opened a can of grapefruit slices. Oranges were passed around. Soon we were eating, drinking, smoking. When Joe suddenly piped up. Hey, Sarge, what time do we jump? I don't know, Joe. They're back to sleep. Hey, look, fighters. Hey, there are us, Rose. Those specks of planes whizzing under the clouds, circling our big ships as we throng steady toward our objective like a great school of fish in the sky. The paratroopers lapsed back into their stony silence, half dozing, half thinking. The ominous silence was broken suddenly by the copilot. Three minutes to drop zone. Three minutes to drop zone. All right, fellas. Joe with cigarettes as we came down into a light mist. It was cold. I had trouble handling my pencil. Sweat rolled out under my helmet in a black suit. I began to think, what if we hit on the bottom of the plane? What if we? How you doing, Mr. Fry? All right, all right. Have some grapefruit. No thanks. Is that more black? Yeah. Yeah, but we're OK. Just a light voice. Don't tell me somebody dropped another wash basin down the back stairs. Back-action on the right. Small arms fire. But he was on the alert. The sergeant, without a word, took his place by the open door, bracing himself against the wind. The paratroopers studied the floor of the plane intently, and then suddenly. All right, fellas. It's already light. The paratroopers fastened the cord from their shoots to a light cable running overhead the length of the plane. And then they waited silent, shifting their equipment, resting it easy for the drop. Say, Mr. Fry, I want to come down with us. Sorry, Joe, but I'm making a round trip. He flew and fell out into the air. I followed to the door and looked out at the red, green, and yellow parachutes fluttering toward brown fields. On the ground, one of our planes laid blazing curiously. It ran through its column of black smoke. The sight of those planes gave me my most urgent desire to get away from there. Hold on, Fry. OK, give her the gun. I went back and sat down, staring at the big empty plane, at the metal cords dangling from the shoot cable, at the safety belts along the two rows of bucket seats, as if they were waiting for the men to come back. Men who at that very moment were drawing their battle lines and fighting for existence. I got out my typewriter and began my story by Robert L. Fry, United Press correspondent, with the first Allied Airborne Army over enemy-occupied Holland. How do you like it back there alone? Plenty good for me, three in the making. We will bring you another thrilling story of these soldiers of the press soon. Be sure to listen. Meanwhile, listen for United Press news on the air. Look for United Press dispatches in your favorite newspaper. They are your guarantee of the world's best coverage of the world's biggest news.