Chapter 57

I’d always been the kind of guy to get unbearably sea sick, but not today. My mind was preoccupied with the feat I was about to conquer, or it would conquer me.

The solemn, two hour boat ride to Normandy, France was the longest two hours of my life; we couldn’t even sit. The boat was made of steel, gray and cold to the touch. There was an elevated seat in the back for the driver so he could see where he was going. He even had a roof over his head; that’s more than we could say. There were about 30 guys on my boat, all squeezed into the 100 foot long by 30 foot wide craft, with the roaring engine and driver’s area taking up most of it. The men were silent for most of the boat ride, at least on my boat. Once we were a little closer to the beach the guy driving the landing craft called up to us.

“Welcome to hell, boys!” he shouted over the obscenely loud roar of the motor. He chuckled, a little maniacally once I thought about it, but I didn’t have the chance to question him because the guys in front started talking, clearly trying to calm down.

One of them called over to me.  “Hey! GI Joe!” I had a little laugh with the rest of my friends. “Are you ready?” he shouted, almost as if expecting a yes.

“Not a chance in hell!” I shouted jokingly over the roar of the motor. “But you know what they always told us in training!” It was an inside joke between everyone who was trained. “Live together, die together!” I finished.  We all laughed; for some, it would be the last time. “Maybe on my grave it will say 1926-1944, died while serving his country in the invasion of Normandy!” I shouted once again.

Once we were closer to the shore I peeked over the side of the landing craft and saw what could very well be my death bed. The bleach white sand supported boat stoppers, which made it so we had to land in the water before we even got to the beach and trench through the water, all the while getting shot at by Nazi turrets. Looking at the vast beach with traps lining it was a very humbling sight. I realized just how small I was in the world.

Once we got as close to the shore as we could, we started to hear the tattering of bullets against the door that was starting to lower. We were scared, but the guys in front were gonners, and they knew. Luckily, I was in the back, but I had a friend named Fred in the front. Our beds had been right next to each other at training camp. I heard him call back to me.

“See ya in the next life, Joe.” His voice was calmer than seemed possible.

“Meet ya there...” I replied under my breath. The sadness in his voice seemed to mirror my own.  His face seemed as solemn as a sorrowful man on his deathbed, which I suppose he was.

The door finally opened, and bullets sprayed through. The guys in front fell to the ground. They had died before they even got the chance to scream. I felt a single tear run down my cheek as I charged out onto the beach, trying not trip over bodies.

As I darted out of the boat, bullets flew all around me. Bodies littered the white sandy beach, and barbed wire lined the beaches, ready to pierce the skin at any moment. I knew I would have to jump it like a hurdle. Once I got past the barbed wire, I rushed to find cover. I ran into a trench and looked back to catch my breath. While I was in my sprint, many of the GIs on my boat were killed, their bodies lying idly on the beach.

I couldn’t think about them; I had to focus on the task at hand, surviving.

Once I caught my breath, I got up and peaked my eyes up just above the ground. There was a Nazi soldier operating a huge machine gun, shooting down soldiers left and right. I was a pretty good shot, and I thought that I could hit him. I went back down and loaded my Springfield. I waited until I heard the gun shoot and stop to cool down. This was my chance. I stood up tall and aimed at the Nazi down the sight of my rifle.

BANG!

I missed, and the gunner noticed me! I quickly reloaded my rifle. I found out that in a life or death situation, you can accomplish things pretty quickly. Once my rifle was reloaded, I aimed down the sight again, right at the enemy soldier. In the time it took to reload, the machine gun had cooled down a bit. I heard the machine gun start up again. I couldn’t rush the shot, but if I didn’t hurry I would be a goner.

BANG!

He fell to the ground. In the time I was aiming, I hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten a shot off. I didn’t feel any pain, but when I looked down to the place where I had felt the impact, I found my arm covered in blood. I had been shot.

“Medic! Medic!” I supplicated. A medic quickly rushed over.

“Looks like you got caught by a big one,” he said.

“You should see the other guy,” I said sarcastically between huffs and puffs.

He chuckled. “You’re lucky it only hit your arm,” he said.

“I’m a lucky guy,” I said with as much sarcasm as possible. He finished and told me I was good to go as he went off to help someone else. I got up and looked over at the action. As soon as I did, I saw a U.S. soldier get sniped. He bent over, clutching his torso.

“JVHFGBIUDVNUSERHGIBS!” he screamed.

In that moment, I realized I had a burning hatred for Hitler.

Before I even realized it, I started to charge the German front line. I sprinted with my springfield aimed at the closest Nazi soldier I could find. I saw bullets whizz by me as if they were in slow motion. I lightly tugged my finger toward my body, and the trigger came back with it. I saw the soldier’s body fly backwards as the bullet penetrated him.

I then got off two more shots; each time I reloaded I ducked behind cover. However, after that my gun jammed and I tossed it to the side.

I guess my trusty Springfield ain’t as trusty as they said it was, I thought.

I then had to pull out my service pistol, which ran out soon after. Luckily, I was near a dead soldier who had dropped his Thompson, so I could keep on fighting. I charged out into the German front line once again and fought for freedom, for honor, and for my country.

-Ricky Walser