33: Shot Down
As the plane slowed down, we noticed a small crowd had gathered. When we came to a stop, some members of the greeting party moved closer. We were all pretty anxious to get out of that plane, so I quickly opened the door. As long as I live, I will never forget those three women who were standing so close to the door they were actually blocking our exit. They were so scary, my first instinct was to slam the door shut and grab my pistol. Each one of the women was about the size and shape of a refrigerator. Their uniforms looked like they were made out of those olive drab GI blankets. On their caps was the prominent Communist red star. Each one had a bandolier of ammunition with a sub-machine gun slung over their shoulders. Boy, they were mean looking, with no expression on their faces whatsoever. They just stood there, glaring at us, until Dunigan came forward and attempted to get them to back up so we could get out. He wasn’t having much luck, and I was beginning to think that maybe we should have ditched in the Adriatic.