Utah Beach, June 6, 1944. We were advancing off the Uncle Red sector of the beach, assaulting into WN5, when a burst of machine gun fire took down our squad lead as he crested a sandy berm. The squad's medic and I jumped behind the berm for cover, and when we collected ourselves realized that our squad leader was still alive and calling for help. We sprang into action, ready to aid our wounded comrade. The medic popped a smoke grenade and I began to crawl to the edge of the berm, ready to cover him when the smoke was thick enough for him to move.
As the smoke billowed, and the medic got ready to move, a lone German artillery shell impacted on the opposite side of the berm, and flung our squad leader's dismembered and bloody body over the edge and right into our faces.
Utah Beach, June 6, 1944. We were advancing off the Uncle Red sector of the beach, assaulting into WN5, when a burst of machine gun fire took down our squad lead as he crested a sandy berm. The squad's medic and I jumped behind the berm for cover, and when we collected ourselves realized that our squad leader was still alive and calling for help. We sprang into action, ready to aid our wounded comrade. The medic popped a smoke grenade and I began to crawl to the edge of the berm, ready to cover him when the smoke was thick enough for him to move.
As the smoke billowed, and the medic got ready to move, a lone German artillery shell impacted on the opposite side of the berm, and flung our squad leader's dismembered and bloody body over the edge and right into our faces.
War is Hell, and Hell... Let Loose.