Through Her Lives

Your Son

Normandy, France, 1944

June, 6th, 1944

Dear Mom,

                                There ain't to be no harder day I've been trained for. I can't tell you where I am or where I'm going but know in your heart I'm safe. I hope you're proud of me and the boys over here. We're working at it hard. Tell dad and sis I love them and Mom I love you too. I hope I'll be home soon, to see ya'll smile and you can cook for me Mom.

There ain't no place I'd rather be than home.

Love from your son.

He scribbled on the piece of paper as the landing craft swayed and with it the soldiers. Putting the piece of paper in its envelope he handed it to the boat driver. He wasn't sure it would ever get home but he would hope. The cliff loomed over them now and artillery fire surrounded them. Guns loaded, they ran off the troop carriers and onto the sandy beach dominated by cliffs. Though it was void of Germans they could hear them above throwing stick grenades at them and shooting. The ropes were mortared up and he grabbed a nearby one. Pulling hard on it before trusting it with his weight, then, the long scramble began.

                The rock cliff was harder than anything they had trained for, it crumbled under their grips and many fell to their deaths, but he conquered it. With many others they crossed the barbed wire and began to take Pointe Du Hoc. Man upon man came running out of the bunkers. Ranger's hacking their way through the ones that stayed inside. Their tomahawks cleaved the heads of any Germans that resisted.

                He fell into the entrance of a darkened bunker, vaguely aware of guttural whispers around him. Surrounded by pitch black he felt their presence growing closer, in this light and space a gun was useless.  He scrambled to his feet desperately making his way to the bright square of the exit. Before reaching it, it was barred by the silhouette of a soldier, weapon levelled. Without thinking he drew his combat knife and charged. Plunging the knife through the side of the silhouette's neck, he watched the tip re-emerge through the skin on the opposing side. Forcefully, he ripped the man's throat apart while carrying enough momentum to knock them both clear of the doorway. Spilling into the light he was relieved to see that the soldier was in fact a German. He watched silently as blood gurgled from the soldier's mutilated neck. Staggering to his feet, spattered with blood and gore he stepped away from the entrance, lobbing a grenade back through as an after-thought.

They threw grenades, they shot humans and they conquered again and again. Their efforts were in vain, the Germans where yet to install the anti-naval cannons that they had been sent to destroy. Both brothers in arms that had flanked him in the landing craft had been killed.  They had fought for nothing. They had died for nothing.