A SHORT ADVENTURE
By Philip Arnold
June 6, 1944-Omaha Beach-Dog Green Sector
A splash of cold seawater doused Cpl. Arlen Short. He hated saltwater. It was bitter and filthy. He especially hated it when the stuff got in his mouth, he could taste it for days almost. Another one soon came over the side of the LCI, his OD's were completely soaked now. But that was the least of his worries. In another minute or so, he would be hitting the beach, his third so far. But this time was different. He had landed at Sicily and Italy, but there was something keenly different about France. Cpl. Short looked at the others. Some were green and pale, two had just thrown up and he was a little queasy himself from the rough seas. Damn ocean. That is why he joined the Army in the first place, so he could be on dry land. But sometimes, things don't go the way you want them to and he knew that well enough.
In front of him was Captain Miller, Charlie Company's commanding officer and a damn fine one at that. Cpl. Short couldn't think of a better man to lead this company. He was solid, confident, a genius in his own right and yet mysterious. No one knew anything about him, not even Sgt. Horvath. He was just one big enigma waiting to be figured out. Another big splash came over the side of the LCI, but this time it wasn't caused by a wave, but an artillery round. They were getting close now. Real close.
"Clear the ramp! 30 seconds! God be with you!" the Helmsman yelled.
"Port side stick, starboard side stick move fast and clear those murder holes!" barked Captain Miller. More rounds were coming in now.
Sgt. Horvath turned around and gave a last second instruction, "I want plenty of beat between men. You see five men shoot the opportunity. See one man, don't waste your ammo."
"Keep the sand out of your weapons. Keep those actions clear and I'll see you on the beach." said Captain Miller. The last bit was always reassuring. Soon, very soon, Short thought to himself as he felt the landing craft slowing down. He heard it gear down and then the sound of the release mechanism that dropped the ramp. "Clear the murder holes!" Miller shouted one last time.
As the ramp was falling, a torrent of bullets came flying into the LCI. Short stood back, dazed and watched the MG fire tear the men in front to pieces. They didn't stand a chance. In the distance, Arlen could hear a voice, screaming, commanding. Two hands gripped his shoulders firmly and yanked him to his senses.
"Over the side! Over the side!" Captain Miller yelled. Cpl. Short looked at Miller and saw the urgency in his face, trying to get everyone the hell of the doomed boat. Arlen didn't think at all and instead did exactly what his Captain told him to do. He reached over the sides of the landing craft and hurled himself over the top and into the water.
Coldness enveloped him as he sunk straight to the bottom of the English Channel. He opened his eyes but the saltwater caused them to burn. He would have to find his bearings a different way and soon; because he was sure as hell he didn't want to drown. Short kicked his legs and hit something metal; it was the landing craft. He turned his body till he reached the muddy bottom. The Corporal then thrust himself out of the cold, dirty, salty water and caught a breath. But the weight of his gear and rifle sent him right back to the bottom.
He couldn't stay here, Short thought to himself. He needed to get out of the water and onto the beach. The only problem was getting there safely, but of course the only safe on the whole battlefield was…well, nowhere. Arlen then began pushing against the channel floor, occasionally lunging up above the water to get air. While under water he could hear bullets zipping past him and when he was above, he heard them flying by in the air. Artillery rounds still pounded both the beach and the channel, there was no way in hell Short was going to make it out of this alive.
But he went on and soon he was knee-deep in water, his OD's sticking to his body and he began to run the best he could, hardly able to breathe. He made it out of the channel and onto the beach and took off for one of the steel beach obstacles. MG fire continued, never letting up, hitting everywhere around him but fortunately not hitting him but getting very close. Short finally made it to the obstacle and planted himself firmly behind it. After taking to very deep breaths, he reached into his ammo belt and loaded up his M-1 Garand. He slammed the breach closed and began looking around for men from his unit. But everything was still blurry and his still burned from the saltwater. He set his rifle aside and rubbed them, but that didn't help all too much. He then heard a familiar voice amongst all the confusion and disarray. The person was yelling a name all too familiar to the Corporal.
"Captain Miller! Captain Miller!" yelled the soldier, flailing his right arm in the air. It was Sgt. Horvath. Short smiled now comforted by the fact that two of the most important men in the company were still alive.
"Sgt. Horvath, move your men up the beach!" Captain Miller ordered with a controlled yell. It was firm, men around him nodded and obeyed. A voice of reason amongst a sea of utter chaos. Short then saw Sgt. Horvath hunkered down a bit, made a few arm movements, turn and take off up the beach, heading for the seawall. Arlen watched as the Sergeant and the men around him take off up the beach, several being gunned down in the process.
Cpl. Short looked up the beach and saw it littered with bodies of men who had tried the same thing as Sgt. Horvath was doing now. Short knew that the only way to survive any of this was to make it to that seawall. He bunkered behind the beach obstacle, closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer. Short continued to keep his eyes shut, ignoring the blinding pain of the salt still in his eyes. They began to water up and tears streamed down his face. With his eyes still closed, Arlen reached down and picked up his rifle, took one more living breath and bolted up the beach.
It was the fastest and seemingly the slowest he had ever run in his life. No matter how hard he pumped his legs it seemed like he would not reach the seawall in time. That the Germans would gun him down or a mortar would land right on top of him. It looked like he didn't have a chance in the world. But some how he made it. When he got within 10 feet of the wall, he jumped with all his strength and landed…on an already shot up corpse. Short didn't realize it at first but as soon as he did, he shucked himself off, his wet OD's now covered in blood. Someone would probably mistake him for a medic or something and that would be all he would need right now. Some dying man screaming out to him for help, but unable to do so because he wasn't trained for it; he was a ranger, first and foremost.
Short looked around again for a familiar face and saw both Captain Miller and Sergeant Horvath together. Soon others began showing up. Reiben, Caparzo, Mellish and Jackson. They were all still alive. Of course, Reiben didn't even have his powerful B.A.R. on hand, but he soon began crawling, searching for a new one. He came up to Short and looked over him, seeing the dead Ranger behind him.
"Hey Short." Reiben called.
'Yeah?"
"Toss me that gun, will ya?" Reiben asked in his New York accent. Considering the situation and Reiben's character, he didn't seem all that eager to get the gun. Maybe he was trying to keep it cool or maybe he was actually scared out of his mind, Short didn't know and didn't care. He rolled to his side and reached out with his right arm and grabbed the dead man's gun. The B.A.R. was still firmly clasped in the man's hands, but Short was eventually able to free it from him.
"Sorry buddy," Short said to the fallen soldier, "but someone else needs it now." He turned back around and threw it to Reiben. The New Yorker thanked him quickly and took off back to where the others were. Short began moving himself down that way also. When he made it safely, Arlen noticed several new things going on. The medic Wade was now present amongst the others, helping as many people as he possibly could. A radioman's face had been blown off and his skull caved in. A Demolition expert was also present and the group began setting up the bangalores.
Cpl. Short was still in a daze and he closed his eyes for a short second. They still burned from the saltwater. He pulled out his canteen, opened it and brought the opening to his mouth. When he up-ended it, nothing came out. He opened his eyes and looked curiously at the container. A bullet had ripped through his canteen causing it's contents to spill out. Arlen was shocked and very much pissed off.
He proceeded to swear and curse the Germans for ruining his canteen. He tossed it away and looked around for another. He turned to the dead radio operator and took his. It was still full and as a plus, had no holes. He took a swig, closed it up and put back in his belt. Short then fixated his attention back to the others setting up the demolition. It was set and ready to go, all it needed was the Demo guy to put in the fuse, who was doing so that very second. He pushed the fuse in, paused, holding it tightly in his hand and yelled "Fire in the hole!" as loud as he could.
Short heeded the call and planted his body into the seawall. He heard the warning a couple of more times, the fuse being set off and the explosion. It was so powerful, Short felt himself lift off the ground almost. He shook his head and looked to see Sgt. Horvath crawling up and inspecting the result of the explosion.
"We're in business! Deficit on the other side of the hole!" he yelled and when he started to turn, men began running up and over the wall, machine gun fire pouring down their way. Short was not far behind. Again, he found himself running as fast as he could, trying to get to safety. Arlen wasn't too sure if anyone behind him had tried to make a break for it because as soon as he made down the other side, he could hear bullets kicking at his heels. Those who had made it safely over were now taking cover behind a shelled out concrete structure. One could see the reinforcement bar mangled and twisted every which way. Cpl. Short looked over and saw an already dead soldier. Captain Miller reached out and shoved the body back down. Short watched it roll, lifeless and bloody, then he looked away, back to Captain Miller, waiting for an order.
The situation was beginning to reach an all-new level of frustration. Some twenty men were crammed into a small space trying to get cover from the German machine guns. No one could go anywhere until the machine gun nests were cleared and then things could get done. But the most frustrating part for Arlen was that his eyes still burned. He swore, set his rifle in his lap and began rubbing his eyes furiously trying to get the salt out. His eyes watered up again and tears streamed down his face, causing little relief. Short then looked over and saw Captain Miller, wielding a bayonet with a mirror attached to it. He then handed it to Sgt. Horvath who took a look of his own. The two leaders exchanged observations and Horvath moved back behind Miller.
"Reiben, Mellish," the Captain called out, "let's get into the war. Find some cover and put some fire on that crew." Reiben and Mellish did as they were commanded and Caparzo followed suit. The three then began firing uphill at a nest Short couldn't see.
Captain Miller then began yelling out more names, "Davis, Debanardo, Young, Vault, get ready." The four men lined up to the side of Captain Miller. Vault, who was last in line, seemed a little more jumpy than the rest.
"Covering fire!" Miller bellowed. He leaned out behind the bunker and opened up with his Thompson. Reiben, Mellsih and Caparzo kept up their constant stream of fire. "Go go go!" Captain Miller ordered and the four guys took off around the corner.
Sgt. Horvath moved over and sat beside his Captain, "It's like a goddamn firing squad."
Captain Miller sat the mirror down and swung his Thompson around. "Well it's the only way we can get everybody the hell out of here. Short, Pate, McDonald, Parks…you're next." Arlen felt a huge lump in his throat when the Captain called his name. Then he realized, his eyes no longer burned. That was a plus he thought.
By Philip Arnold
June 6, 1944-Omaha Beach-Dog Green Sector
A splash of cold seawater doused Cpl. Arlen Short. He hated saltwater. It was bitter and filthy. He especially hated it when the stuff got in his mouth, he could taste it for days almost. Another one soon came over the side of the LCI, his OD's were completely soaked now. But that was the least of his worries. In another minute or so, he would be hitting the beach, his third so far. But this time was different. He had landed at Sicily and Italy, but there was something keenly different about France. Cpl. Short looked at the others. Some were green and pale, two had just thrown up and he was a little queasy himself from the rough seas. Damn ocean. That is why he joined the Army in the first place, so he could be on dry land. But sometimes, things don't go the way you want them to and he knew that well enough.
In front of him was Captain Miller, Charlie Company's commanding officer and a damn fine one at that. Cpl. Short couldn't think of a better man to lead this company. He was solid, confident, a genius in his own right and yet mysterious. No one knew anything about him, not even Sgt. Horvath. He was just one big enigma waiting to be figured out. Another big splash came over the side of the LCI, but this time it wasn't caused by a wave, but an artillery round. They were getting close now. Real close.
"Clear the ramp! 30 seconds! God be with you!" the Helmsman yelled.
"Port side stick, starboard side stick move fast and clear those murder holes!" barked Captain Miller. More rounds were coming in now.
Sgt. Horvath turned around and gave a last second instruction, "I want plenty of beat between men. You see five men shoot the opportunity. See one man, don't waste your ammo."
"Keep the sand out of your weapons. Keep those actions clear and I'll see you on the beach." said Captain Miller. The last bit was always reassuring. Soon, very soon, Short thought to himself as he felt the landing craft slowing down. He heard it gear down and then the sound of the release mechanism that dropped the ramp. "Clear the murder holes!" Miller shouted one last time.
As the ramp was falling, a torrent of bullets came flying into the LCI. Short stood back, dazed and watched the MG fire tear the men in front to pieces. They didn't stand a chance. In the distance, Arlen could hear a voice, screaming, commanding. Two hands gripped his shoulders firmly and yanked him to his senses.
"Over the side! Over the side!" Captain Miller yelled. Cpl. Short looked at Miller and saw the urgency in his face, trying to get everyone the hell of the doomed boat. Arlen didn't think at all and instead did exactly what his Captain told him to do. He reached over the sides of the landing craft and hurled himself over the top and into the water.
Coldness enveloped him as he sunk straight to the bottom of the English Channel. He opened his eyes but the saltwater caused them to burn. He would have to find his bearings a different way and soon; because he was sure as hell he didn't want to drown. Short kicked his legs and hit something metal; it was the landing craft. He turned his body till he reached the muddy bottom. The Corporal then thrust himself out of the cold, dirty, salty water and caught a breath. But the weight of his gear and rifle sent him right back to the bottom.
He couldn't stay here, Short thought to himself. He needed to get out of the water and onto the beach. The only problem was getting there safely, but of course the only safe on the whole battlefield was…well, nowhere. Arlen then began pushing against the channel floor, occasionally lunging up above the water to get air. While under water he could hear bullets zipping past him and when he was above, he heard them flying by in the air. Artillery rounds still pounded both the beach and the channel, there was no way in hell Short was going to make it out of this alive.
But he went on and soon he was knee-deep in water, his OD's sticking to his body and he began to run the best he could, hardly able to breathe. He made it out of the channel and onto the beach and took off for one of the steel beach obstacles. MG fire continued, never letting up, hitting everywhere around him but fortunately not hitting him but getting very close. Short finally made it to the obstacle and planted himself firmly behind it. After taking to very deep breaths, he reached into his ammo belt and loaded up his M-1 Garand. He slammed the breach closed and began looking around for men from his unit. But everything was still blurry and his still burned from the saltwater. He set his rifle aside and rubbed them, but that didn't help all too much. He then heard a familiar voice amongst all the confusion and disarray. The person was yelling a name all too familiar to the Corporal.
"Captain Miller! Captain Miller!" yelled the soldier, flailing his right arm in the air. It was Sgt. Horvath. Short smiled now comforted by the fact that two of the most important men in the company were still alive.
"Sgt. Horvath, move your men up the beach!" Captain Miller ordered with a controlled yell. It was firm, men around him nodded and obeyed. A voice of reason amongst a sea of utter chaos. Short then saw Sgt. Horvath hunkered down a bit, made a few arm movements, turn and take off up the beach, heading for the seawall. Arlen watched as the Sergeant and the men around him take off up the beach, several being gunned down in the process.
Cpl. Short looked up the beach and saw it littered with bodies of men who had tried the same thing as Sgt. Horvath was doing now. Short knew that the only way to survive any of this was to make it to that seawall. He bunkered behind the beach obstacle, closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer. Short continued to keep his eyes shut, ignoring the blinding pain of the salt still in his eyes. They began to water up and tears streamed down his face. With his eyes still closed, Arlen reached down and picked up his rifle, took one more living breath and bolted up the beach.
It was the fastest and seemingly the slowest he had ever run in his life. No matter how hard he pumped his legs it seemed like he would not reach the seawall in time. That the Germans would gun him down or a mortar would land right on top of him. It looked like he didn't have a chance in the world. But some how he made it. When he got within 10 feet of the wall, he jumped with all his strength and landed…on an already shot up corpse. Short didn't realize it at first but as soon as he did, he shucked himself off, his wet OD's now covered in blood. Someone would probably mistake him for a medic or something and that would be all he would need right now. Some dying man screaming out to him for help, but unable to do so because he wasn't trained for it; he was a ranger, first and foremost.
Short looked around again for a familiar face and saw both Captain Miller and Sergeant Horvath together. Soon others began showing up. Reiben, Caparzo, Mellish and Jackson. They were all still alive. Of course, Reiben didn't even have his powerful B.A.R. on hand, but he soon began crawling, searching for a new one. He came up to Short and looked over him, seeing the dead Ranger behind him.
"Hey Short." Reiben called.
'Yeah?"
"Toss me that gun, will ya?" Reiben asked in his New York accent. Considering the situation and Reiben's character, he didn't seem all that eager to get the gun. Maybe he was trying to keep it cool or maybe he was actually scared out of his mind, Short didn't know and didn't care. He rolled to his side and reached out with his right arm and grabbed the dead man's gun. The B.A.R. was still firmly clasped in the man's hands, but Short was eventually able to free it from him.
"Sorry buddy," Short said to the fallen soldier, "but someone else needs it now." He turned back around and threw it to Reiben. The New Yorker thanked him quickly and took off back to where the others were. Short began moving himself down that way also. When he made it safely, Arlen noticed several new things going on. The medic Wade was now present amongst the others, helping as many people as he possibly could. A radioman's face had been blown off and his skull caved in. A Demolition expert was also present and the group began setting up the bangalores.
Cpl. Short was still in a daze and he closed his eyes for a short second. They still burned from the saltwater. He pulled out his canteen, opened it and brought the opening to his mouth. When he up-ended it, nothing came out. He opened his eyes and looked curiously at the container. A bullet had ripped through his canteen causing it's contents to spill out. Arlen was shocked and very much pissed off.
He proceeded to swear and curse the Germans for ruining his canteen. He tossed it away and looked around for another. He turned to the dead radio operator and took his. It was still full and as a plus, had no holes. He took a swig, closed it up and put back in his belt. Short then fixated his attention back to the others setting up the demolition. It was set and ready to go, all it needed was the Demo guy to put in the fuse, who was doing so that very second. He pushed the fuse in, paused, holding it tightly in his hand and yelled "Fire in the hole!" as loud as he could.
Short heeded the call and planted his body into the seawall. He heard the warning a couple of more times, the fuse being set off and the explosion. It was so powerful, Short felt himself lift off the ground almost. He shook his head and looked to see Sgt. Horvath crawling up and inspecting the result of the explosion.
"We're in business! Deficit on the other side of the hole!" he yelled and when he started to turn, men began running up and over the wall, machine gun fire pouring down their way. Short was not far behind. Again, he found himself running as fast as he could, trying to get to safety. Arlen wasn't too sure if anyone behind him had tried to make a break for it because as soon as he made down the other side, he could hear bullets kicking at his heels. Those who had made it safely over were now taking cover behind a shelled out concrete structure. One could see the reinforcement bar mangled and twisted every which way. Cpl. Short looked over and saw an already dead soldier. Captain Miller reached out and shoved the body back down. Short watched it roll, lifeless and bloody, then he looked away, back to Captain Miller, waiting for an order.
The situation was beginning to reach an all-new level of frustration. Some twenty men were crammed into a small space trying to get cover from the German machine guns. No one could go anywhere until the machine gun nests were cleared and then things could get done. But the most frustrating part for Arlen was that his eyes still burned. He swore, set his rifle in his lap and began rubbing his eyes furiously trying to get the salt out. His eyes watered up again and tears streamed down his face, causing little relief. Short then looked over and saw Captain Miller, wielding a bayonet with a mirror attached to it. He then handed it to Sgt. Horvath who took a look of his own. The two leaders exchanged observations and Horvath moved back behind Miller.
"Reiben, Mellish," the Captain called out, "let's get into the war. Find some cover and put some fire on that crew." Reiben and Mellish did as they were commanded and Caparzo followed suit. The three then began firing uphill at a nest Short couldn't see.
Captain Miller then began yelling out more names, "Davis, Debanardo, Young, Vault, get ready." The four men lined up to the side of Captain Miller. Vault, who was last in line, seemed a little more jumpy than the rest.
"Covering fire!" Miller bellowed. He leaned out behind the bunker and opened up with his Thompson. Reiben, Mellsih and Caparzo kept up their constant stream of fire. "Go go go!" Captain Miller ordered and the four guys took off around the corner.
Sgt. Horvath moved over and sat beside his Captain, "It's like a goddamn firing squad."
Captain Miller sat the mirror down and swung his Thompson around. "Well it's the only way we can get everybody the hell out of here. Short, Pate, McDonald, Parks…you're next." Arlen felt a huge lump in his throat when the Captain called his name. Then he realized, his eyes no longer burned. That was a plus he thought.
