An Episode of the Reign of Terror A.K.A. D-Day
Private Ryan M. Johnson gazed at the beach they were speeding towards. Ryan knew today wasn't going to be a day he would ever forget any time soon. He saw that the beach was covered with the dark red stomach-churning color of blood. Smoke, sand, and, ammunition stormed the atmosphere like enormous flocks of birds flying south for winter. Boom! Massive landing crafts exploded as they were hit by numerous bomb shells! Just then the huge a mass of helmets on the landing craft lurched backwards as the craft speed up avoiding enemy fire. The sea spray glistened on the surface of everything it touched, catching the light of the artillery fire.
Ryan glanced at the faces of the men around him. Some were praying, while others held pictures or mementos of sweethearts and family before carefully tucking them away inside of their jackets.
The rest stared into the unknown, their faces expressionless, betraying no inner feelings. He thought about his wonderful family and gorgeous house back on Maple Street in Cleveland, Ohio. His best friend Gary Smith and he enlisted in the Marines at the same time.
"Stop day-dreaming and kill some Nazi solders! And that goes for the rest of you sorry losers as well!" roared general Large.
Ryan managed a smile in return for the hearty slap on his shoulder and twisted around to recognize Gary.
"Hey buddy we'll finally going to kill Nazi solders after that horrible basic training!" exclaimed Gary.
"Remember, the rules are the same just like it was in the old neighborhood. Stick with me. We'll both do just fine." told Ryan.
Suddenly, both men were distracted by an explosion which sent more spray into the craft. The roar of airplanes filled the sky.
D-Day?
This "story" is factually inaccurate and stylistically stilted. Factually, no generals went ashore in the early waves at Normandy. The people who directed operations on the beach were sergeants and low-level officers, while higher officers directed matters, initially from ships.
The landing craft did not veer or change speed to avid shells. They came straight in, at a steady speed, to avoid colliding with one another, counting on protection through sheer numbers. Had they started dodging about, they would have presented a threat to one another.
British planes did not fly over the beaches on which the Americans landed. They kept to their own kind.
Landing craft, if intact, went very close to the shore before releasing the soldiers, to spare them from having to struggle through anything other than shallow water. When the soldier disembarked, they went out through the front, not the back.
Given the ability of sand to absorb fluid, the notion of the entire beach stained red is rather silly.
The Americans brought their own climbing ropes: new, clean, coarse, easy to climb. Do you think the krauts were going to leave convenient ropes for the incoming troops. If they did, no G.I. who wanted to see tomorrow ever touched them. That'd be the rope that leads straight into a cross-fire from a dozen machine-gun nests.
There were no cities of any substance near the landing beaches. Cities have reasonable transportation networks, which make it possible for the enemy to resupply easily. One of the reasons for landing at Normandy was to complicate the Germans' situation as much as possible. Even where there were cities, the Germans tended to avoid them: French civilians were nearly as nasty as Iraqi civilians are now.
Finally, of the style: The dialog sounds nothing like men fighting for their lives. It sounds pointlessly stilted. "Nazi soldiers"? Who else is going to be in the trenches atop the cliffs shooting at you, son? Party officials? Hitler youth? Or maybe you thought the party was going to send down a fraulein or two to give you carnations, huh. Hell, yes, they're kraut soldiers, with guns. And if you get over being so full of yourself and your damn Cleveland, you'll remember what you do with a kraut with a gun.
And in combat, do you really think soldiers worry about shooting the same person? In combat, if you think that person is the enemy, and you think he's alive, unless he's making clear signs of surrendering, you shoot until you're sure he's dead.
In short, unimpressive.
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