Little did we know, today we were entering the mouth of hell. As soon as the door dropped, a barrage of tracers and blood cut its way through my platoon. There was no way out, except up and over the side of the boat. I had to use my knife to cut my pack off, the Damn thing was so heavy it almost took me down with it. I finally get free and make my way to the shore. Red sand kicks up all around me while I run to find cover.
A Captain is shouting orders and pointing forward as he is lifted off of the ground. A moment of stupidity comes over me while I run out with another man to bring the captain back to cover. We grabbed jacket and made a b-line away from fire. I tried to patch him but I've never seen so much blood, it was gushing out like the man was a water well back on the farm. The only thing I could do is give him morphine and watch while his eyes became dull.
Suddenly I felt a tug on my coat, a Lieutenant picked me up and threw me back into hells fire. Not only do I have to worry about being sent home as swiss cheese but having to avoid falling on the mines from the heave. Weaving in and out of the craters, avoiding the bodies that where tossed every which way by the explosions. I only had one thought, "don't hesitate go straight through." I have met the devil today, and he wore gray. We made over the barbwire barricade that they stocked on the beach. The bunker is dug into the side of the hill with the nests on top making an up hill charge foolish. The guy who opened the door to a hail fire of bullets. We secured the troop barracks