D-Day Ch. 1

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Private Harry Chambers, age 18, felt himself tensing as the engines on the Higgins boat roared into shore. German artillery fire was already sending up plumes of smoke and water. In reaction, Chambers bent lower and used the craft’s side panel for protection.

Chambers heard the bottom of the boat scrape on sand. A boatswain twirled the release wheel, lowering the landing ramp. Captain Persons took one step onto the ramp and was immediately cut down by machine-gun fire.

All hell broke loose. The Germans fired directly into the craft. Thirty men were packed tightly into the boat, three abreast, ten rows total. Shockingly, the first four rows, twelve men, fell instantly.

In the face of such carnage, it is natural to pause momentarily and collect one’s wits. That natural pause, that momentary delay, cost six men (in rows five and six) their lives. Chambers, in row eight, knew he was next.

It was sheer madness to move forward. 18 bodies lay in all sorts of contortions, blocking that exit. Yet it was also certain death to stay where he was. So Chambers took the only option open to him. He leaped over the side panel, into the water…

…Twenty-five years later, in 1969, Harry Chambers once again found himself swimming in the waters off Omaha Beach. Only this time it was pleasurable. He’d returned with a group of other veterans to bizimkent escort recognize the 25th anniversary of the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944.

Harry floated with the tide, letting it carry him into the beach. At 43, he was in reasonably good shape. The person who got the comments, however, was his wife, Gerta. Despite birthing three kids and staying married to Harry for 23 years, Gerta had kept her stunning figure.

The tide carried Harry up to the sand, where he lay at water’s edge, his mind drifting back to 1944…

…When Chambers hit the water, he found it deeper than expected. The tide was rushing in, raising the level. What a moment ago was just at his ankles, now almost covered his thighs. Crouching, he knew he had to move soon or be swamped with water.

Chambers looked toward the beach. Men were struggling to get out of the rising tide but in almost every case, they were falling, hit by the terrible machine-gun fire. Pvt. Chambers wondered whether to try his luck.

Then he noticed two GI’s floating by, letting the tide carry them into the beach. That way, they didn’t have to rise out of the water, exposing themselves to German fire. Each man pushed a corpse in front of him as a shield.

While grisly to contemplate, Chambers realized that using a corpse was a very practical bostanc─▒ escort solution that might keep him alive. The water was covered with floating bodies. GI’s had been issued Mae West life preservers, which kept a man on the water’s surface, alive or dead.

Chambers found a floater, shot through the head. He pulled the corpse close, put his rifle on it, then held it in front of him as he allowed the tide to carry him into the beach.

By the time Chambers felt his knees dig into the sand, he’d heard three thumps from the corpse. Each thump was a German bullet that could have hit him. As he began to crawl up onto the beach, Chambers let the dead private drift back into the water…

…Harry stood up and walked across the beach. As he approached his beach towel, near the sea wall, Harry admired his wife, Gerta. A beautiful face, 36-26-37 measurements, firm ass and legs. Harry always felt he’d married a real “piece.”

Last night had been no exception. Gerta was a tiger in the bedroom. They’d fucked three times: first, standard missionary; second, with Gerta on top; and third, doggy-style, when Gerta actually howled. The next morning, as they came downstairs for breakfast, the hotel owner had given Harry a knowing look and a sly smile. Certainly the whole hotel, if not the entire village of Beyaux, had b├╝y├╝k├žekmece escort heard about the romantic Americans.

“How was your swim, darling?” Gerta asked, in her always adorable Hungarian accent. She smiled, leaned over and gave Harry a brief kiss. In that instant, Harry got a view of her wonderful cleavage, enhanced by her black bathing suit.

“Fine, thanks. I think I’ll just rest awhile.” Gerta smiled again and returned to her Agatha Christie novel. She was an avid reader and student of the English language. Harry lay on his beach towel, as his thoughts carried him back to Omaha Beach…

…Chambers began to crawl across the war-torn beach. Men were screaming, crying, shouting or dying. Burning tanks, trucks, half-tracks and jeeps littered the sand. Machine-gun fire swept the area in a hailstorm of bullets. Those already wounded were wounded again.

Chambers suddenly felt a thud in his backpack, followed by a searing pain in his left buttock. He’d been hit! Chambers almost passed out. When he recovered, he could feel the warm blood oozing down his leg.

Chambers knew if he stayed where he was, he’d probably be hit again. He quickly lifted his head and observed a group of GI’s huddling under the protection of the sea wall. At the moment, that looked like an awfully good spot.

Despite the terrible pain in his backside, Chambers jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could toward the wall. He dove head first into the huddled group.

Chambers quickly inspected his body. There were no other wounds. But he did find two bullet holes in his shirt tail. He began to shake uncontrollably…

To Be Continued…

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