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by Josh Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · War · #1810505
I started this 6 years ago and just finished it today.
Sitting in the crowded transport I thought of back home, of all the good times I had with my family. I would have given anything to be with them at that moment. The waters were rough and many men got sick, emptying their stomachs onto the floor of the landing craft was all they could do at the time. Bombs exploded all around us, spraying us with water, bullets whizzed above our heads at blinding speed. After what felt like an eternity, the transport stopped moving and we were ordered to get out. The ramp was lowered and I watched the first man run out and fall straight down and disappear into the water. I thought that was odd but didn't have much time to think about it. As soon as that first man disappeared, the men in front of me started falling; a turret was firing on us. The men right in front of me let out grunts of pain and fell into the water as well. I immediately ducked down and hated myself for it, why didn't I run out like the other? Suddenly I felt a weight on my back, and it got heavier and heavier until I collapsed. I couldn't move, I was trapped under the dead bodies of the men behind me, my friends. As I laid under the men, I looked towards the beach, I watched my friends run across only to get mercilessly shot down. Some tried to take cover but there wasn't much to hide behind. I was forced to watch as my comrades were blown apart by mortar shells while I laid, trapped, under the lifeless bodies of the men behind me.

I laid there for hours, at least, that's what it felt like. It was torture, what was happening in front of me. It was an experience I wouldn't wish on Hitler himself. I heard an explosion, suddenly I was on my side, no, the whole transport was tilting, it was sinking. Water rushed up towards me, in a matter of minutes I was under water and so were the dead men on top of me, I could move, I squirmed and wriggled until I was free but I was still under water and running out of air. My lungs began to burn and they felt as if they were going to shrivel up. I un-clipped the heavy pack and let it sink to the bottom as I kicked as fast and as hard as I could to get to the surface. I broke through and began gulping down air, I must have taken in gallons upon gallons of the stuff. I swam to shore to try and catch my breath and I almost forgot about the war going on. I crawled onto the sand, the tide colored red, waves crashed on top of me and flooded my mouth, it had a coppery taste to it. I found something to hide behind and closed my eyes.

I smelled breakfast. The intoxicating scent of bacon everywhere, I heard egg shells crack and the egg sizzle as it plopped into the pan. Mom put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me, she had tears in her eyes. My father looked at me, he seemed proud, he patted my back and told me to eat up. "It's not everyday your son goes off to war" he said, "Son, enjoy this breakfast, it's the best food you'll get for quite some time." He was right.

I awoke to three loud clangs of bullets hitting my shelter, how could I have fallen asleep in all this? I leaned out to try and look at what was going on. When I did a mortar hit, not 40 feet from me and I was showered in sand and dirt. I reached for my rifle then remembered that I let it sink to the bottom of the ocean. Looking around I found the rifle of a man who had been blown in half by a mortar. The dog tags read "Jensen, Anthony" I knew this man. We went through boot camp together, he slept in the bunk next to mine, and now here he was, lifeless, organs strewn across some beach in France. I grabbed his rifle, dog tags, and what remained of his pack and ran back to cover. I leaned out and opened fire on the turret, housed in it's concrete fortress. A loud ping informed me that my clip was empty, I rummaged through Jensen's pack and found 4 or 5 clips, I reloaded and opened fire again. This time the turret took notice of me and fire back, a bullet grazed my arm and another nearly took off my right ear. I leaned back into cover and realized that what I was doing was pointless, I needed to get closer.

I noticed a group of men all running forward at the same time so I decided to join them. We all ran half way up the beach and took cover. Hiding behind what we could find, we exchanges glances , no one said a word, we were all too busy catching out breath. One man stood up and began to run and we all followed. We were almost there, we were so close to the concrete structure, but we never made it, none of us ever made it there. A mortar exploded right in the middle of our little band. The man to the left on me was utterly destroyed, there was nothing left of him. I was thrown into the air and landed hard on the sand. I screamed in agony, there was no specific point of pain, I simply hurt everywhere. I looked for the other men I ran with, I couldn't find them. I tried to stand but failed and fell back to the ground. Suddenly a sharp pain hit my left leg, I screamed and clutched for it, something wasn't right, I couldn't feel my leg, I looked down and realized that my left leg was no where to be found. There was nothing below the knee, just an open spigot of blood. I also noticed a piece of shrapnel embedded in my right hand. I thought my life was over, I was laying on a beach among hundreds of other men, missing my leg and blood pouring from the open wound. I looked up at the concrete fortress, the place I fought to get to, I simply stared at it. It's massive wall, the single slit from where the turret was shooting. Suddenly the turret stopped , flashes came from inside the dark slit, then solders appeared in the opening, waving, smiling, we had done it, we had taken over the fortress.

A medic ran up to me, he started to ask me questions, I didn't know what he was saying, his words were quiet. He injected me with something that made me feel better, then he injected me again, and again, and then darkness.
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