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The noise was deafening. Eisenhower and the members of his party climbed onto the roof of the division headquarters to watch in silence as hundreds of aircraft and gliders lumbered into the rapidly darkening sky, again saluting as each aircraft passed by. For Eisenhower, a man unused to publicly expressing his emotions, it was a painfully moving, yet exhilarating experience, and the closest he would come to being one of them. NBC correspondent Merrill Mueller stood nearby and noted that Eisenhower, his hands deep in his pockets, had tears in his eyes.
Eisenhower remained after the last aircraft had taken off and their sounds had faded away in the night. Strolling back to his staff car, deep in thought, his shoulders sagging as they did whenever he was troubled, Kay Summersby thought him the loneliest man in the world at that moment. The knot of apprehension in his gut can only be imagined, but the expression on his face revealed more than words. "Well, it's on," he said somberly, again looking up at the night sky, "no one can stop it now."
