World at War

-Part 1: D-Day-

(Note: The events of this story were inspired by the opening scenes of the movie "Saving Private Ryan" and were based on true historical events and facts. Please note that this story may contain some language and contents that may not be suitable for all readers. Reader discretion is advised.)

Chapter 1: Bloody Omaha

Dear Mom and Dad,

Tomorrow I am fighting a key battle. No one can stop thinking about it. Some people pretend to sleep and others talk, but no one can take their mind off of it.

At dawn, we'll be heading out to Normandy, and there's a possibility that I may never see you again. I have so any things I want to talk to you about that I don't know where to start.

I'd give anything just to be able to hug you right now.

No matter what happens, I want to tell you that I love you both.

Almost forgot. Please take good care of George for me. Remember to give him at least three meals per day and try to take him to his monthly check-ups.

And if you have time, please stop by Andrea's house and tell her I said hi.

That's all that I ask of you. Please take care. Pray for me.

Your son always,

Grey.

Sent by:

Private Grey Bonneville, B Company, 29th Infantry Division. June 5th, 1944

June 6th, 1944_

Approximately 0830 hrs_

Omaha beach_

Dog Green Sector_

The churning pitch-black sea made our little boat lurch forward and into a towering wave in front of us. It crashed down on us with a force that knocked a few of the men off their feet. The sky was grey and full of angry clouds, threatening even more bad weather.

I felt the rough rolling waves pushed against the side of the boat, and sea sickness was taking a toll on us. My hands shaking, I took a sip of water from my canteen. The Captain stood in front of the landing craft, his face mysterious as usual. Sergeant Horvath stood at the rear, chewing on a food bar.

Even though I was used to sea travel, the rough conditions still made my stomach a bit uneasy. It was obvious that some of the other men didn't like it either; the guy behind me was sick, and at the sight of this, another soldier threw up too.

Even though the weather reports days earlier threatened us of possibly even abandoning our extremely important mission, the higher ups, aka high generals, still gave the go-ahead.

And considering the sheer scale of it, this "Operation Neptune" wasn't a small one.

D-Day, they called it. Over one million men participated in this mission. As part of an operation to invade Northwest Europe called "Operation Overlord", it was a step forward that could turn the tides of the war and possibly even push the Nazi back from total conquest of Europe.

We were headed for one of five codenamed beaches on the coast of Normandy: Gold, Sword, Juno, Utah, and Omaha. Intelligence reports said that heavily armed and armored enemy defensive formations lined up along all five beach heads: barricades, mines, bunkers, artilleries, and machine gun nests. The British and Canadians were assigned to take Juno, Gold, and Sword, while we Americans were to storm the two more heavily defended beaches, Utah and Omaha.

All around us were other boats just like ours; landing crafts full of anxious and weary soldiers. Some were excited; others were grim. I felt sorry for them. As soon as you accepted to be a part of this operation, there was no turning back. But with that thought came another: what did I feel? Was it fear? Excitement?

I looked around at my group. They weren't much older than me; I'd say, 16 to 20 at most, except for the Captain. Most of us were straight out of training, with little or no combat experience.

Since the requirements for this operation were massive, the Allies took every man they could find without withdrawing too much troops from the front lines. That included those who were fresh from boot camp.

The Captain have seen action in Africa as well as the invasion of Italy, while I have only took part in the landings on Guadalcanal. So, to make a long story short, everyone on this boat, with the exception of me and the captain, and maybe one or two other soldiers, has never seen war. I hoped that they never have to.

Since I was near the front of the landing craft, I spotted the shoreline and the bunkers that lined the ragged cliffs in the distance through the hazy fog. We were headed for Dog White Sector, but God, we were off. Our group was blown westward after hitting quite a storm on the way, and as soon as the storm cleared we were given new orders to land on Dog Green.

At the back of the landing craft, the pilot shouted out, "Clear the ramps, thirty seconds! God be with you!"

The Captain looked backed at us, his face grim, and started briefing commands. "B Company, this is it. Once you get on the beach, move fast and clear out those murder holes". We all knew he was referring to the buckers and machine gun nests lined up along the cliffs. Sergeant Horvath then walked down the line, continuing where the Captain left off, "I wanna see as much beach as possible between men. Five men's an opportunity; one man's a waste of ammo."

"Keep your guns away from the sand, keep those actions clear, and I'll see you on the beach".

After that, no one said a word. Shells exploded all around us, spraying water and foam on us, making a few of the guys flinch. One soldier did a prayer, while another pulled out the cross on the chain around his neck and kissed it. Transport planes and bombers could be heard in the skies above us, flying to their targets inland. Shell bombardments from our warships swizzed overhead and pounded the enemy. At least, I hoped that they do hit the enemy. Our boats rushed against the waves as we got ready to storm the beach.

As we neared the shoreline, I immediately knew something was wrong. I didn't see any of the A Company troops. They left for the initial assault over half an hour ago. So where the hell were they?

Before I got to think any further, the boat throttled back to a low humming sound. Here we go, I thought to myself. All of us readied our stances. The locking pins were lifted, and the ramp started to lower; but when you lower a ramp on a landing craft, that's when the machine guns open up on you.

The Captain was hit immediately. The bullets slammed into him, literally punching holes through his body, sending bits and pieces of who-know-what flying everywhere. The next two men were also hit with the same manner, and I was the fourth man off. I guess the thing that saved me was that at the very moment the guy in front of me was shot, the boat reared up, and I was tossed over the side.

The freezing water was the first thing I felt. Then the force of being pulled down. My equipments were so heavy that they dragged me swiftly down. Precious bubbles escaped my mouth. My eyes stung badly and my lungs felt like they were about to explode. I dropped my weapon and yanked my packs off, then pushed myself up to the surface.

Bullets flew past my head, missing by mere inches, but I had no time to think as the man in front pulled me forward. Suddenly a hole was punched through the back of his helmet. The solider fell, taking me with him and as I was once again submerged under water, I saw the red liquid pouring from the wound in his forehead. I pulled myself back up and continued moving forward.

As I was gasping for air, the Captain came up next to me.

"C-C-Cap-Captain!", I managed to choke out.

The Captain was not in good shape. Blood seeped from his forehead and from his mouth. He mumbled something, and before I could do anything, he went back down again; that was the last time I ever saw him.

Putting my thoughts aside, I looked back to see who made it of alive, but the men were being cut down by the guns like you couldn't even imagine. Even those who were climbing over the sides didn't get any mercy from the German gunners. Only very few of the soldiers managed to get into the water at all. And even some of them got shot underwater.

As I made my way to the shore, I heard, "Someone help me!" There was a soldier near me on the verge of drowning, struggling to get his heavy packs off. He got a bullet pierced right through his left shoulder. I swam over to him and helped him pull the bloody bags off of him. Then, with his left arm slung across my neck, I grabbed the back of his soaking wet shirt and pulled him with me.

As we waded ashore, with bullets flying and men dying everywhere, I got us behind the cover of one of the barricades scattered along the shoreline. It was a large, metal structure made of long interlocking metal beams. They were made to slow the advance of troops and stop the movement of tanks. But the downside was that they provide some cover for advancing troops. I sighed in relief. 'At least we're safe, for now anyways.'

The soldier that I saved stared at me in wonder. "Th-Tha-Thank you. Thank y…..". The grateful guy never got to finish his sentence. From out of nowhere a stray bullet slammed into his chest. He jerked back, blood seeping out of his shirt, and then he fell into the water, dead. I couldn't believe it. Why did I have to get myself into this mess?

I immediately wished I was back home. Bodies were everywhere; bullets were flying; blood stained the water, making the once grey sea red. Suddenly, all the hope I had disappeared. My squad, my brothers, didn't make it. I wouldn't make it either. We were fighting a losing battle.

'Great', I thought to myself. 'How the bloody hell are we gonna get out of this one alive?'

Chapter 2: Hard Way Back

The deafening sound of machine guns rattling and men screaming was overwhelming. The already stormy sky was even blacker as it was filled with rising smoke. And the smell; ugh, there was no words that could describe the horrible putrid smell that choked me with every breath I took. Pressing myself against the barricade, I pulled down my helmet and held my rifle close. I just wanted this nightmare to be over.

All around me, men were dying. Sea water along the beach line was stained dark red. Soldiers with missing limbs were crawling towards the barricades for cover; medics ran madly around, their hands and equipments stained with blood, trying to save anyone they could. Men with flamethrowers were burning from their ruptured propane tanks, their agonizing screams joining that of those who were wounded or dying. As I scanned the beach, I spotted a site that made tears escape my eyes. Private Mauler was lying on the sand. He was trying to hold his stomach together. I choked on a sob as he started to cry out for his mama. I couldn't help him. No one could.

I snapped from my trance as I noticed a guy a bit down from where I was. He was wearing a radio backpack. That's it! I could call in for reinforcements!

When I got to the soldier, I grabbed his arm. "Shore party! We are pinned down and are almost out of ammo. No armor has made it to the beach. Requesting reinforcements. I repeat, reque…." That was when I realized he wasn't moving. I turn the soldier over, only to find that his face was no longer attached.

'Dammit'. I cursed to myself.

Out of nowhere, a shell, or maybe a mortar, I forgot which, exploded ten feet in front of me. I was literally thrown in to the air. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as I crashed back down to the sand. I started to feel dizzy; my visions were blurring. Everything was moving so slowly; no sound seemed audible. I saw my friend Jackson running towards me. He was yelling… something.

Suddenly, I was yanked backwards and my back slammed against the sand dune, waking me from my trance and back to reality.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?" I recognized that voice. Turning over, I found myself staring into the face of Private Daniels, his face showing signs of distress.

There was a group of soldiers gathered around me. They were starring at me, as if waiting for a command or and order. I recognized Private Codman, Koppel, Jackson, and Daniels amongst them.

"Why are y'all still here? Why haven't you moved to the sea wall?" I shouted lazily, still stunned from my trance.

"We tried to" Codman responded, "But every time we made a move, those bloody Nazis kept gunning us down".

"Yeah" One of the soldiers yelled over the sound of the battlefield, "and that's why we need you. We're making a run for the wall, and we needed as many soldiers as we could find."

I suddenly remembered something. There was one person in command who made it off the boat.

"Where's Sergeant Horvath?" I ask the soldiers. "Has anyone seen him?"

"He's somewhere over there!" one guy shouted, pointing to my left. He was right. Horvath and his group were gathered behind some barricades, trying to avoid the storm of metal hailing them.

"Sergeant Horvath! Sergeant Horvath!" I yelled out, waving frantically, trying to get his attention.

The sergeant seemed to have heard me, for he turned in various directions, looking this way and that before finally spotting me. "Private Bonneville!", he shouted. "Move your men off the beach! Now!"

Turning back to the soldiers in front of me, I said, "All right, guys! Hurry up and follow me!"

Another soldier yelled out, "What's our rallying point?"

"Anywhere but here!" I responded.

(To be continued…)

(What will happen? Will Private Bonneville and his comrades make it through the battle? Find out next time, in part two of World at War.)