Bullets rip through the air as we get closer. We must be seconds away from the ramp being lowered. Some of the men pull out crosses and kiss them or utter silent prayers. The craft slows and the ramp lowers. Men rush forward through the murder hole, half the men in my craft don't even make it out. Blood soaks the ramp as the men fall into the sea or fall down the ramp tripping the men that follow, which just saved some of their lives. As I scramble over bodies and wade towards the shore, I look for cover in the hell hole I've just run into. I dive behind the iron cross of a Czech hedgehog and look back to the world I left moments before. The grey sky and rough waves look strangely comforting as I look at the beach that I'm now stuck on. The water is now red with the blood of thousands. Bodies litter the sea. The tide places the bodies on the gentle sand as the water retreats from the chaos. The beach is covered in so many dead and dying men, that not even hell could look more sorrowful. Countless men lay here lifeless or wishing they were. The piercing screams of men are combined into the gut-wrenching wail of mortar shells. The mortars carelessly pick up the men and toss them without moments of hesitation. They do not consider the families they are destroying. They don't stop to think of the men that will never return to the mother, sisters, wives, fiancee or girlfriends. These men will never know the lives they were meant to live.
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enemy on the cliffs
Historical FictionJune 6th 1944, the allied forces are making there assault to retake France from the germans. However with the enemy having the high ground and the allied soldiers pinned on the beach, do they have a chance to win?
