War Story

Omaha Beach seemed worse than any Hell he could possibly imagine. The briefings in England and on the ships hadn't prepared him at all for the chaos that he found upon scrambling from the landing craft. Most of the guys on his boat had been taken out by the Mg42s in those towers further up the beach. Pvt. Mayo looked up for just a split second and noticed that crows were already in line to do their clean up work after the humans finished their deadly game. Holding his helmet to his head and taking cover behind one of the tank traps, he waited for someone to take control of the situation, and he cried and prayed as he helplessly watched his buddies cut down by machine guns and mortars. He saw beyond the blood and gore that he wasn't the only one who didn't know why in God's name he was really there. A mortar round landed too close for comfort and forced him out into the open. He immediately began his charge up the beach anew, searching all the while for any possible cover. The high calibur rounds danced in the air and on the ground all around him. A blast crater caught him and swallowed him up into its deceivingly safe perimeter. Peering over the edge of the crater, he could see Sgt. Crow had made it to the shingle and had rallied a few men around him. None of them could do any good without the engineers there to take out the barricades, so they held their position, pinned down by heavy fire. As he lay in the crater, his mind wandered away from the battle and back home to his family, friends(those that weren't here with him on the beaches), his girlfriend, and the comforts of just being home. He remembered the day he left for basic training at Fort Benning in Georgia. It had been a rainy day in Slidell, and a quiet one at that. The crowd at the bus station to see him off had been a small one, consisting of his immediate family, his best friends (again,those that werent getting on the bus with him.),his girlfriend, and a few others that were there that he didnt necessarily know, but just decided to wave and say goodbye anyway. The bus ride had been long and quiet. Once he had made it to Fort Benning though, he had fun going through the mind and body games of the drill instructors. His thoughts eventually led him back to the beach, where a medic checked him and kept asking, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Finnaly Mayo snapped out of it and answered him with a shaky nod. The medic patted him on the shoulder and headed out of the crater, but was shot in the leg as he started running off. Reacting on instinct maybe, Mayo threw himself out of the crater and ran to the medic and dragged him back to the pit. He grabbed some of the medic's bandages and administered basic first aid, comforting the wounded man and trying to control his bleeding, while frantically calling for a medic. No medic showed up, but Mayo didnt give up trying to help the wounded guy. He looked familiar, "Jeremy? Is that you? How in the hell did you end up here? Jeremy? Pay attention man, you're gonna make it. Medic!!!" He called again and was luckily answered by a diving body who slammed into the crater, crashing into the two trapped friends. "The medic's here now. He'll take care of you. You better not die here dammit!" With that a new burst of courage took over and carried him out of the crater and charging up the beach toward Sgt. Crow and the rest of Alpha Co. The world seemed to blur out, and his breathing got heavy. The wind rushed in his ears like a constant whisper. His feet seemed heavier and the Thompson in his hands seemed to float in his grasp. The edges of his vision darkened and the beach seemed peaceful to him. His family and everyone was there. Why were they here though? Looking around he saw warriors and soldiers saluting him. Saluting him? He should be saluting them. He tried to return the salute but his arms wouldn't move and he couldn't feel his body at all really. Then a bugle sounded somewhere far off, followed by Amazing Grace on bag pipes. Why this was happening here, in the midst of all this hell, he didn't know. Then he heard gun shots, three rounds of them. He could hear people crying. He tried to comfort them and ask them why they were crying, but the words wouldnt form in his mouth. A darkness descended slowly on him and he heard somebody above him giving orders and another voice read scriptures from the bible. Then there was silence and a tranquil peace overcame him. He was home again, away from the war, the weariness, the fear. His new home was in Arlington, Virginia, but he seemed at home there.