Everything Went Wrong...

“The U.S. 1^st Infantry Division, with heavy support from the 116^th Regiment and 29^th Division, heavy armor support, and B-17 Flying Fortress heavy bombing support was to storm Omaha Beach and break through heavy German defenses in an effort to capture the villages of Vierville, Saint-Laurent, and Colleville. Of course, everything went wrong...”

     A swirling mass of images in full color, yet in a blur fill a canvas of memories. Memories of happiness, yet they are morose, and poignant to the mind. Memories in full color, and sensory array. From the swirling mass, one distinct image comes to view.

     The smell of a wondrous home-cooked meal fills the small dining room of a family home. A wife setting the dinner table and a child playing merrily outside can be seen. Diane is a tall, beautiful women with flowing blond hair who prepares the meal with all her love for the family. A husband comes down from washing for dinner. The dialogue is seen and felt, but strangely not heard. Sounds are chambered and echoed. Not actually heard, but thought. “Randy! Dinner!”, the voice rings and bellows from the image. Randy runs inside. Although 8 years old, he is still slightly babyish in the face; a cute boy who will undoubtedly grow up to be a handsome and successful man. The father says grace, and the family begins their journey of backtracking through the day and discussing all the wonderful events over that God blessed meal...

     “Sir! I said we’re 10 minutes to ETA!”. Richard Hammond’s dream shatters right before his eyes. The toxic smell of salt and vomit immediately replace what was once the smell of pot roast; ever since Richard was a child, vomit was a sight to abhor. The sounds of silverware clinking to chinaware is replaced with howling winds and the effervescent rumble of the landing craft motor churning the unsettled waters of the Normandy coast. “Sir!?”...Richard turns and stares uneasily into the eyes of one of his soldiers. “Are you alright sir? Do you need to see the medic?”. Richard looks back to see the field medic giving out pills for motion sickness, and other assortments of medicines not provided by the Army. He was always known to bring his own medicines along...”No, I’m fine!”. The shouts are swallowed up by the roaring and rumbling sea, but somehow find the ears of the soldiers. Richard sits back and thinks of home again. He’s a good-looking guy with bright blue eyes. He is of average height and is one of the ranking officers in his division. He seems to be lost in the tumbling boat ride to hell. There is “silence” for another 5 minutes, until soft sounds that were ignored a few minutes ago become loud enough to hear. Sounds of mortar fire and gunfire can be hear like the soft pattering of the rain on a metal roof; soft, but distinct. The men shift uneasily in their spots on the craft and some of them start praying. Richard looks back at his two friends David and John who have been in the Army with him ever since the start. Another memory would come into view right about now, but the sounds of mortar and gunfire shatter the images before they even form. David Thomson is in the same state as Richard; staring hopelessly into empty spaces and thinking of memories far off. He is taller than most the others, and has strong brown eyes. Also, he is one of the few African Americans in his division that is liked by the “whiteys”. John Walker, on the contrary to David and Richard, is thinking of the mission at hand. John’s trying to get a good look over the ramp at their landing point, still shrouded in the fog. Yet, his piercing green eyes seem to see right through it. It is almost impossible to get past those eyes and into the thoughts behind them. He is shorter than rest, but makes up for his physical dearth in strength with his keen talent, his handling of his sniper rifle.

     After a few minutes, the boat is within viewing range of the battlefield already set by the first wave. The first wave should have already cleared most of the cliff defenses and they could reinforce the land movement. But looking over the ramp now, within a hundred yards of the shore, can already tell them that something went terribly wrong. Bodies lining the shore convince them that they’ll have a huge uphill fight ahead of them. Through the fog, a helpless American fighting force clutching to what limited cover they can find can be seen sitting in one place. The scene is as if the Germans did something to placate God, while the Americans failed to do so.

     Almost immediately, when the bunkers are within viewing range, mortar shells begin landing in the water, missing the landing craft by a few feet. The shells explode rocking the boat and sending salt water raining down into the craft. Only to add to the confusion, the driver of the boat receives their final orders from the landing ship, “Alright, that’s a Go for landing! Repeat, Go for landing! Ramps in 60 seconds!!!”. The engineer at the very front is uneasy as he gets ready to drop the ramp. John bursts out, “Wait!!! We can’t go in there! Look at that!”. Everyone tries to get another good look over the ramp. “Ramps in 30 seconds!!!”. Richard pulls out his Colt .45 and points it at the engineer, “You’re gonna drop that ramp in 30 seconds, understood?”. The engineer gives a hesitant nod and Richard holsters his weapon. John mutters some of the worst words he can think of; him and Rich never agreed on many things, but their friendship was strong.

     “RAMPS!!!” The engineer drops the ramp and a spontaneous rain of gunfire plows into the boat like a conflagration that resembles a brushfire. The gunfire appears to come from heaven and not the Nazi bunkers on the cliffs. The first lines of men are instantly cut down, and the ones behind stumble forwards to the same fate. Some of the men decide to jump off the sides of the craft, “No!!! Your packs!!!”. But Richard’s warnings are too late. The men land in the water, and their heavy packs send them straight to the bottom of the 6-foot deep shore. All the other boats of this second wave fall to the same fate. Richard puts on his helmet, which he took off in an effort to see over the ramp, and starts pushing whatever men are still alive out of the boat. They wade through the bodies that have littered the opening of the ramp and make their way towards the beach. Countless others fall to the spray of bullets coming from the cliff. What was seen as a fixed Allied victory now becomes a voluble battle. Somehow, perhaps by mere luck, Richard, David, and John all make it to the first line of hedgehogs (Czech beach obstacles made to stop tanks).

There are already numerous others from the first wave who have been sitting behind these hedgehogs for hours, using the metal tripods to shield themselves from the Nazi wrath of .30 caliber bullets. From the “safety” of the hedgehogs, John begins to analyze the situation; his green eyes scanning around miss nothing. Several things happen that indicate what matter they have on their hands. A soldier miraculously dodges the gunfire and runs up the beach. He is instantly dematerialized as a landmine blows a huge crater in the ground where he once stood. Mortar fire and machine gun fire from .30 caliber turrets rains down from the cliff above. No armor or air support is to be seen. “Rich!!! The first wave did absolutely nothing! The engineers where supposed get ridda landmines, but we won’t get much farther than here! The landing party screwed up our armor support, and the Air Division is nowhere to be seen! What the hell are we supposed to do?”. Richard looks around. The last of the engineers are already dead, and it looks as if they’re hopeless until support arrives. “You’re the best we can do right now!!! We gotta get you further up the beach, and you can take out some of those emplacements. But we gotta wait for air support. Where’s that radio!?!?!” Over the shouts of confusion and with the hasty leadership of Richard, the radio is found and communication with the landing ship is established. Richard is wildly trying to receive analysis from John and relay from the radio operator while giving out orders. “John, is there a safe way up the beach!?!? Radio! Tell them that Easy Red is NOT CLEAR! We need the division air support, wherever the hell it is! Tell them we are going to try and get rid of the machine gun emplacements!” Richard finally makes a quick decision and the men listen hard over the sounds of battle to hear their orders. “Alright men!!! We’re going to move up the beach! David! Alright, you organize our men, get them to protect John while we move up the beach! John! Have you found that path yet?”. John indicates a way they can move, and Richard gives a final yell.

     The men scurry up the beach to the crater where the first landmine went off. They are careful to follow the path that the first guy took to not fall to the fate of any landmines nearby. Once at the crater, they huddle behind the wall closest to the cliffs, with their backs facing it. From here, they are adequately protected from the machine gun fire. They look back at the trail of bodies leading from the hedgehogs to the crater. “John! We gotta take out that machine gun if we’re gonna make it any farther...” A mortar shell lands several yards past them. The shell triggers off several landmines in the area, clearing a small path that they can go through. “We can advance further up the beach if you do!!!”. John does not even answer as he slowly pushes his sniper rifle up the edge of the crater. He stares down the scope that is lined right up to the machine gun. He slowly adjusts the sight as he gets ready for the shot. The machine gunner sees the rifle protruding from the crater, but all too late. He falls out of the bunker with a bullet in between his eyes. His body topples out of the bunker and down the cliff, but only moments after, another SS takes his place at the turret. Those few moments of switching gunners was all it took, and the men had already scurried up the beach to another crater. John grabs a medical scalpel he keeps in his pack and makes a mark on his rifle to join the other 18 that are already there.

     The new SS begins firing upon the group, but most of them are safe against the inside wall of the crater. A few stragglers are picked off by the gunner and litter the crater as Richard is trying to formulate another plan. “Grenades men!!! Grenades!!!”. They grab grenades from their pack and begin throwing them up the cliff. Most of the grenades are hastily thrown and land astray, but one sails straight into the bunker. A huge explosion throws the SS out of the bunker and he flies to the beach to land in a heap. Despite being venerable and against heavy machine gun fire, the men continue to throw what grenades they have. Suddenly, the man right next to Richard is hit. Richard sees the grenade in the dead man’s hand...with the pin missing. “Move up!!! MOVE UP!!!”. Richard pushes and shoves everyone to the next crater, but the few who didn’t listen were not as fortunate. A new crater forms inside the previous one with more bodies inside.

     Now that the men are close enough to begin returning fire, the rifles that were once shouldered behind their backs come out to view. They successfully keep the machine gun clear by shredding any SS that comes into the bunker with sub-machine-gun and assault rifle fire. The medic, one of the few soldiers who actually survived, is trying to administer medical attention to those who are critically injured, but for most of them, it is too late. Suddenly, a mortar shell lands right next to them, and Richard is injured badly by a large piece of shrapnel. He is thrown a few feet from the impact, and lies outside the crater, completely venerable. Through the confusion, David and John manage to drag Richard back into the crater. The medic immediately begins to try and stop the bleeding, but it is already too late.

     David and John are frantically trying to keep the machine gun clear, as SS after SS keeps pouring into the bunker, trying to recapture it. John will probably not have enough space left on his rifle for marks, and both are running out of ammunition. The few other men that are in the crater with them are in the same situation. Suddenly, the roar of B-17’s can be heard overhead with salvoes of bombs being dropped. The bunkers and cliff defenses are immediately blown to pieces. SS bodies can be seen flying in all different directions as the screams of death rains down onto the beach below. Scattered with the bodies of American soldiers are those of Germans who have been thrown onto the beach by bombs. Tanks and engineers can also be seen landing on the coast behind the group as the final wave arrives. The group sees their exit and heads up the cliffs to join the 116^th Division, the 16^th Division, the 29^th Division, and the 2^nd Division Army Rangers from the rest of the Dog, Easy, and Fox sectors in cleaning up whatever SS’s survived the massive bombing.

     David turns back to Richard so that they can go also. “Rich!!! Rich! The division came with the air support! Our exit...”. Richard is almost dead as he hands David a blood soaked envelope that contains a letter. He is about to mumble something, but David simply nods that he understands. Richard takes one final look into the sad brown eyes of his friend David, and the green eyes of John. For once in his lifetime, he can see through those green eyes and knows the sadness held within. Tears come to all three of the men as Richard passes away. David clutches the envelope in his hands, which reads “To My Beloved Wife Diane, In The Case Of My Death”.