It’s June 6th, 1944, you and your platoon are on an attack transport ship just off the
coast of France, near Omaha Beach, and yup it’s D-Day, soldier.
The night before, you and your platoon were handed copies of Dwight D. Eisenhower’s
famous D-Day Statement to Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force.
A certain part of the speech stands out to you as you begin to board a Higgins boat,
“Your task will not be an easy one.
Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened.
He will fight savagely.”
This isn’t your first time fighting “Jerry”, the nickname given to German soldiers during
World War 2, so you know first-hand that General “Ike” knows what he is talking about.
You come a little more prepared than your first encounter with the Germans on the coast
of Africa.
This time your platoon was given plastic covers for your M1 rifle, which was the standard
rifle for American infantry in 1944.
As the Higgins landing craft, vehicle, personnel, or LCVP, approaches the channel you can see
the first wave of troops approaching Omaha beach.
It’s obvious that there are mines everywhere.
It appears as though every other LCVP is getting sent to the bottom of the ocean and the ones
that do make it by, well lets just say it doesn’t look like any of your fellow GIs
are making it too far on the beach.
Almost everyone in your platoon starts to get seasick.
You’re not sure if it’s seasickness or just flat out nerves.
In all reality, it’s probably both.
The M-1928 haversack looks like it would be a great barf bag, albeit a little oversized.
The canvas duck sack is filled to the gills with all of the equipment you're going to
need to survive the upcoming days, weeks or even months.
Hell at about 65 pounds your rucksack better have everything you need in it.
The canvas bag is mounted on a steel or rattan wire frame.
The frame helps bear the heavy load and keep it off of a soldier’s back.
There are three large pockets on the outside of the bag that aid in carrying extra gear,
or wartime trinkets you collect along the way.
In the last conflict you collected a German officer’s watch and plan to send it home
to your nephew first chance you get.
You haven’t lost any of your gear yet because of the sturdy brass snap hooks that close
the two side pockets and cover flap.
Heavy felt pads on the back and shoulder straps help ease the burden of the heavy load.
Anything to make life a little easier goes a long way, but nothing beats a letter from
home.
As your platoon nears closer to Omaha beach the sounds of battle get louder and more ominous.
The low hum of machine gun fire and blasts of artillery seem to find a steady rhythm.
You know that soon the sheet metal ramp in the front of the LCVP will drop and there'll
be no more peace.
Just as you’re thinking this, heavy caliber machine gun bullets rip just past your side
of the boat.
You close your eyes and duck your head out of pure instinct.
When you raise your head it appears a couple of the bullets easily ripped through the plywood
siding of the Higgins.
Water seeps in, but the damage is minimal.
Unfazed the coxswain stays on course and the beach draws closer.
You have gotten into the ritual of pulling out your most prized possession in your rucksack
and kissing it for good luck right before battle.
That’s right you guessed it, it’s a picture of your girl back home.
Every night you pray that you two will be able to get married one day.
All around you your platoon brothers seem to have a similar ritual with whoever their
loved one is back home, everyone except your platoon leader, Sgt.
Holland, who’s always game-faced just before shouting orders as the drop approaches.
You shove the worn and tattered picture of your sweetheart back into your rucksack and
quickly fumble for a cigarette, which comes in small packs of four with your food rations.
You never know when this could be your last one.
The rumble has now turned into a roar.
The sound of mortar shells slapping the water and hitting the soft sand echo, the smell
of spent munitions and the gray haze of war are all around you now.
One last check into your rucksack to make sure you grabbed that extra pair of dry socks
from supply on the ship and luckily you can feel them, still fresh in the packaging.
You’re going to need them if you make it through today because you’re already ankle
deep in water and you haven’t even exited the boat yet.
Your platoon leader starts to shout that it’s almost go time.
Everyone in the platoon readies to exit the boat, standing wearily as the boat rocks with
the heavy waves.
You’ll be the second to last out of the boat, with the new recruit, Private Elliot,
to bring up the rear.
Almost without warning the steel ramp drops and ahead of you lies at least another 100
yards of water.
One-by-one your platoon unloads into waist-deep water, rifles held up high.
As you trudge through the murky water you notice what appears to be a human arm float
by you.
You force your eyes forward and just behind you hear a quick shout of surprise erupt from
Elliot.
As the water begins to shallow out you rush towards the first foxhole you see, probably
a gift from the Allied bombs dropped last night on the beach for this exact reason.
You fire off a few rounds into the distant German position as you drop into the shallow
pit.
The foxhole is a little shallow so you drop your pack, get the spade out and start digging
into the soft sand.
Elliot slides in next to you unannounced, holding his M1 close.
You instruct him to hurry up and join you in the digging.
It is often a two-man job anyway and you’re glad to have the company, even if it is the
rookie.
As the two of you dig, bullets whiz over the top of the foxhole and artillery shells land
only a few yards away.
There isn’t much you and Elliot can do for now except dig in and wait for an opportunity
to advance.
Once you are properly entrenched and feel a little bit safer you grab the canteen, which
is made from a corrosive resistant steel.
You twist off the black resin plastic cap and take a long refreshing swig.
You ask Elliot to join you and the two of you rest and are pretty tired from the dig,
but remain on high alert.
After an hour or so of relentless enemy fire there is a slight break in the fighting.
You take a quick peek back towards the shoreline and take note of the destruction and loss
of human life.
It appears that mines took out more boats then you thought.
The majority of the first wave of LCVPs look to have been destroyed and the bodies of many
of your fellow GIs float alongside the beach.
The shallow water is painted red with blood.
You shake off the flood of emotion and remain focused on the mission: get as far inland
as you can.
You look around and notice some familiar faces peeking out of nearby foxholes.
Suddenly Sgt.
Holland drops into your cramped foxhole and informs you and Elliot that the platoon will
be advancing with what is left of the 1st Battalion, 1st Infantry Regiment.
Before he leaves to inform another nearby foxhole of the next move he orders you to
fix your bayonets, quickly check your ammunition and to be on the lookout for a smoke grenade
as the signal to advance.
As he readies to leave a stray shot rips into his arm and he winces in pain as he clutches
the wound.
Elliot is frozen as you dig into your small med-pack and pull out one-of-two battle dressings.
Sgt.
Holland’s wound isn’t as bad as it looks and luckily it’s just a flesh wound.
After a quick application of the battle dressing he thanks you and gives you a strong pat on
the back with his good arm.
He smiles at Elliot and tells him to follow your lead and to stay focused.
You and Elliot do as ordered and check your ammunition.
You only spent a few rounds so you still have the majority of your twelve, eight-round clips.
The M1 Garand is a .30-06 caliber semi-automatic rifle and Patton even called it “the greatest
battle implement ever devised.”
You have found it to be reliable, even in wet weather.
After the ammo count you and Elliot share one of the smaller rations you can eat quickly.
You two split a chocolate bar and even though neither of you feel hungry you know you’ll
need the calories.
God only knows the next time you’ll have the cover or time to eat after this final
push towards the German position.
With the suppression fire back on you can only hope that you don’t see that smoke
grenade anytime soon.
When there’s another break in the action you peek out of the foxhole and see several
of the smoke grenades to signal that it’s go time!
You grab the rookie by the horse collar and begin to run towards a small green hillside
that acts as a break between the beach and German forces situated on the higher cliffside.
Running at full speed with Elliot now not far behind you can feel the heat of the bullets
whizzing by you.
Around you other members of your platoon and the 1st Infantry Regiment run towards your
objective.
You are now just yards away and hear the sounds of bodies hitting the soft sand.
As you collapse and look back, panting for air, you can see the body of Elliot partially
sunken into the sand.
Partially saddened and enraged, you unload several clips at the enemy, who you can now
make out.
Several German soldiers fold while others retreat to the better-fortified pillboxes.
Shots are ringing out all around you, as it seems everyone who made it to the hillside
is firing back at the enemy.
If only for a few moments you gain the upper hand as artillery shells begin to land on
your new position.
Next to you a Browning Automatic Rifle, or BAR team of two, continues to lay down heavy
fire on the Germans with total disregard for their safety.
An artillery shell lands right on top of them.
When the dust settles the weapon is still firing and to your amazement and horror all
that is left is a hand still clutched to the grip and trigger.
You sink lower into your position and see the familiar face of Sgt.
Holland only a short distance away.
The last thing you remember is the sound of a sharp ping against your helmet and an intense
pain in your head before losing consciousness.
You awake to a field medic tending to the wound in your head, and are shocked to discover
a large indent in your steel helmet.
The firefight sounds further away now and the sun is almost completely down.
Still in the same position in the sand lies Elliot.
You fight back the tears as the medic informs you that your wound is going to require a
greater amount of care and an Army litter will eventually come get you off the hillside.
You ask him to dig into your rucksack and pull out the singular most important item,
the picture of the woman you love.
You clutch the photo as you make a joke to the medic about the possibility of throwing
on that fresh pair of socks.
At least you won’t have to carry that heavy rucksack and wear the unnecessarily heavy
uniform, weighing in at over 20 pounds.
You shed your blouse and cover your top half with the last item you pull out of your pack
today, the standard issue abrasive but warm gray wool military blanket.
As for your part in today’s battle, it’s over.
Now check out How I Survived D-Day- The Battle of Normandy, or click this other video instead!