D-Day

D-Day

  June 5, 1944, 1730 hrs.
  It was a dull, grey, cloudy day aboard the HMCS Prince Henry. There
was the odd drop of rain and the wind chilled you to the bone, but the people aboard were friendly, and the beds were warm. It was on a day like this that the Canadian solders of the Third Infantry Division wished they could be home. That way they could forget about the war against Germany looming ahead of them. But they couldn’t forget, not with France only a few hours away. 
  Seventeen year old Alexander Whittaker, a member of the Regina Rifles, was grabbing a few precious minutes of free time and was leaning over the railing, gazing out to sea. He was remembering St. Johns, Newfoundland and when he had held on tight to his weeping mother. She, along with his father and younger sister, had come  all the way from Weyburn in southeaster Saskatchewan to say a last good-bye to him before he was shipped off.
  “You come back soon, alright? The last thing I ever want to see is one of those letters delivered by an officer to the house back home.” His mother had said to him as she tried to keep her voice from shaking. Alex nodded as he tried unsuccessfully to keep back his tears.
  “I’ll come back, and when I do, I’ll have a medal stuck to my chest. Momma, I’m finally going to prove that I can make something of my life.” Alex said with a weak smile. His mother smiled and gave him another hug. His father then walked over and cleared his throat. Alex turned to him, but all he was able to do was shake Alex’s hand, unable to find the right words to what he wanted to say.
  “Alex, we need to get on board.” A voice called from behind. Alex turned and saw his best friend, John Kerr, the one who convinced him to join the military in the first place. “Come on.” He called again as he nodded his head towards the ship.
  Alex had felt his stomach curl into a knot as he let out a sigh and reached for his bags. “I’ll write you all every day. I love you all, and tell Sara that I love her as well.” He said to his family before turning to fallow John. The last thing he heard from his family was a shy, weak little good-bye muttered from his twelve year old sister.
  Alex was already homesick and he had only been gone from home for a few weeks. He, like his sister, was a shy, reserved kid, but somehow John Kerr had convinced him that fighting in this war would be fun. None of this had helped his nerves, ether. Alex had vivid and unfound memories of being sick through most of basic training, but somehow he managed. John had a lot to do with that.
Alex then looked to the bow of the HMCS Prince Henry, to where France and Normandy awaited. Alex recalled when the Sergeant had first told them about the Regina Rifles part to play on D-Day.
  Alex and John had been standing at the back of the de-briefing room surrounded by other Regina Rifles. At the front of the room was the Sergeant. He was a large, Cree man named David Brown, but most just called him Sarg.
  “Congratulations, gentleman. I have been told by General Eisenhower that the Third Infantry Division has been selected to take part in Operation Overlord. It was to take place on D-day in Normandy, France.” Sarg had said.
  John had loved the sound of this, Alex felt like he would be sick. That de-briefing had been nearly two weeks ago in Portsmouth, England. It was June 5 and the invasion already been delayed twenty-four hours due to bad weather.           
  “Hey, Alex, there you are.” A loud voice called from behind. Alex turned and found himself looking into the face of the confident John Kerr. “I just heard that the invasion plans are a go ahead and that the General has sent in minesweepers to clear the channel.”
  “Really?” Alex asked. John nodded. “Then we’re really going to do it.”
  “Yeah, isn’t it great?” John said with a large grin. “I’ve been looking forward to something like this since basic training.”
  "John, you realise that we might not survive this, don’t you?” Alex asked.
Johns smile fell away as he dropped his gaze to the deck. “Yeah, I do. To tell you the truth, Alex, I’m a little scared.”
  “That’s got to be the first time I’ve ever heard you say that you were scared about something.” Alex said with a small smile.
  “It probably is.” John said weakly. The two friends stood there silently, out in the rain for a good while later. Then a voice came onto the speakers.
  “All men to report to the de-briefing rooms immediately. Repeat, all men to report to the de-briefing rooms immediately. That is all!” The voice boomed.
  “He should get going.” John said blankly. Alex nodded, trying his best to ignore the nausea in his stomach. Alex trudged behind John and followed him to the de-briefing room, where they were once again surrounded by Regina Rifles. At the front of the room stood the solemn looking Serge.
  “Gentlemen,” He said as the room quieted down. “I have just received orders on how the Canadian forces are to storm Juno Beach. Our objective, as Regina Rifles, is to take a small fishing town called Courseulles at the mouth of the Seulles River. We will be landing to the east, where the town buildings line the sea front. More specific orders will be given when needed.
  It would be wise for all of you to get some sleep before this operation commences. You will all be awoken at about 0300 hours to begin making necessary preparations. Dismissed.”
  Some solders stayed where they were, others, including Alex, left immediately. He was shaking, he was so nervous and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. Many solders onboard the HMCS Prince Henry were.
  Alex wandered into his cabin and flung himself onto his bunk. He lay there for a few seconds before reaching under his pillow and pulling out a ripped, slightly faded photograph.
  In the picture was a smiling, bright eyed sixteen year old girl. Her name was Sarah and she had been Alex’s angel since they had first met when they were ten. Alex remembered how people had said that they would probably end up together. Alex just prayed that he would survive long enough to find out. Thinking of Sarah made him miss her and home even more. Alex kissed the picture before replacing it under his pillow and attempted to sleep.
                                                        *      *      *
  June 6, 1944, 0100 hrs.
  The HMCS Prince Henry reached mid-channel. Near it were the HMCS Prince David, and the two destroyers, the HMCS Algonquin, and the HMCS Sioux. Heavy clouds provided excellent cover for the ships as they ploughed through high winds, heavy seas, and driving rain.
  Back in England, pilots and mechanics rushed around their hangers. Bombers were preparing to bomb the German defences while paratroopers and towing gliders were loaded onto carrier aircrafts. These solders would capture key bridges, roads, and strong points to prevent a German counter attack.
  About 450 Canadian solders drop behind enemy lines.
                                                      *      *      *
  0313 hrs
  How much time had he spent staring at the ceiling? Alex didn’t know. How much longer until….Beep. An air horn answered Alex’s last question. It was about three in the morning on June 6. Alex has slept a few hours, but most of the time was spent tossing and turning.
  Alex sat up on his bunk while John emerged from the bottom bunk below him.
  “Ready for this?” John asked.
  “No.” Came Alex’s reply. It was such a mystery to him how John could remain so calm. The two then walked down the cafeteria where they got breakfast. Many solders, including themselves, didn’t eat their food. They just played around with it. The tension in the cafeteria grew as the minutes ticked away. There were some attempts at small talk, but most conversations didn’t last long.
  “What time is it?” John asked Alex suddenly. Alex gave a small jump of surprise before looking at his watch.
  “About four.” He mumbled.
  “You look like you could use some air. Let’s head up on deck.” Alex just nodded as he followed his friend onto the deck and into the early morning chill. They walked towards the railing and gazed towards the coast. In the distance, the two friends saw many bright flashes in the oily darkness.
  “What do you suppose that is?” John asked.
  “The Royal Air Force.” Alex said knowledgeably. “That will be them bombing the German heavy guns.”
  “Bet those Nazi’s are confused as anything, right know.” John said with a smile. A few minutes later to their right, the two then see what look like flares coming from the coast. “Alright, smart-aleck, what’s that?” John asked.
  Alex squinted through the darkness. “I think those are German flares.” He said hesitantly. “I can’t be sure, but judging from the distance, their coming from ether Beach Utah or Beach Omaha.”
  Alex was right. On the bridge of the HMCS Prince Henry, the officers were growing worried. Those flares meant that the Germans had seen the Americans. Things had just gotten more difficult. Nonetheless, they were going to move ahead with operation Overlord.
  At 0430, an officer came over the intercom system, ordering all solders on the decks of the transports. Alex and John sat silently next to each other in their uniforms, clutching their rifles. Alex’s rifle was shaking violently in his hands.
The transports left the ships at 0500 hrs. It would take them about two and a half hours before they reached the French coast. At the front of Alex’s transport was the Sergeant. He was silent for a while before turning to his men.
  “I think we could all use a moral boost. Anyone know any good dances?” He asked with a half-hearted smile. The men all shifted and mumbled uncomfortable. “Just kidding guys.” A few grinned, no one actually laughed.
  0600 hrs.
  They were nearing Normandy coast when a loud bang caused Alex to jump in his seat. The allied ships had begun the hour and a half of bombardment. Alex gripped onto his rifle even tighter, biting his lip to try and keep himself calm.
It wasn’t much longer until battle cruisers closer to the beaches began to fire as well. The Germans didn’t return fire.
About half an hour later, the men began to hear voices on their radios.
  “The convoy has broken radio silence. Ether that means someone royally messed up or things are going as planned.” The Sergeant yelled to them.
  0700 hrs.
  “The artillery and tanks are within range of the beach. Anderson, Kerr, get up into the guns and start firing at those red necks.” The Sergeant shouted as John and another solder stood up from their seats and took control of the guns. They, along with the tanks onboard the transport began firing at Juno Beach. A few minutes later, there was a whistling sound followed by a large splash to the transports left.
  “Get your heads down!” The Sergeant shouted over the rat-tat-tat of the artillery guns. “The Germans are returning fire!”
  Shortly after that, at 0730, most heavy support from the ships ended. Fifteen minutes later. The first transport hit beach.
  “This is it!” Yelled the Sergeant, turning back to his men. “You all have your orders. Be sure to watch each others backs, and may God watch over us all.” The Sarg then instructed John and the other solder to provide cover fire while the others ran for the cover of the buildings. Alex gulped hard as he realised he wouldn’t have his friend watching his back.
  The front of the transport fell to create a ramp and Sarg led the charge out of the transport. Alex licked his lips, said one last prayer, and yelled out, as he followed his comrades in arms out onto Juno Beach, Normandy.
  Alex charged forward. There were craters everywhere, and little German fire. Naval gunfire had done its job. But a whiz by Alex’s ear forced him to roll onto his side. German solders from the town of Courseulles were using their rifles to return fire.
Behind Alex, the tanks of the 1st Hussars rolled down off the transports. They shot at the small town and erased any immediate threat. Alex sprinted towards the nearest building and crouched next to a house that was missing a wall and its roof. Not far away, to his left, was the Sarg and a few other solders.
  Alex glanced behind him, but quickly turned away. Already bodies of his comrades littered the ground.
  The Sarg caught Alex’s eye and made a few signs with his hands. Alex nodded as he griped his rifle even tighter. He quickly stood up and fired a few rounds. Inside the house he hit two unsuspecting German solders.
  The German solders left standing quickly ran out, their rifles raised, swung around and aimed them at Alex. Before they could fire, the Sarg and his team opened fire on the Germans. The three men fell down dead. The Sarg and his team moved into the now empty house and the Sergeant brought out his radio.
  “This is Sergeant David Brown of the Regina Rifles. Beach-head had been successfully established in Courseulles at 0800, repeat, beach-head had been successfully established in Courseulles.” He yelled. 
  Alex, on the other hand, ended up sitting next to the broken wall, staring at the dead German solders. He then introduced what little breakfast he had to the sandy ground.
  “Whittaker!” Sarg shouted. Alex stood up from the wall. “Go with these men into Courseulles. Clean the place out. I’ll stay here and hold this position” Alex nodded and followed his comrades deeper into the town.
  Time seemed to stand still as Alex and the others weaved their way through the town streets. Every time one of his comrades was ether injured or killed, Alex would be unable to keep a fresh wave of tears and nerves back.
  1000 hrs.
  Canadian solders are on the beach in all sectors and reserve troops begin to reach the shore.
  1030 hrs.
  Major General Rob Keller lifted up his phone onboard the HMCS Algonquin and dialled to report to General Crerar in the U.K.
  “Beach-head gained, sir. We are well on our way to completing our immediate objectives.” He said, and then hung up.
  1400 hrs.
  Alex let out a cry from one side of a pile of rubble as a grenade went of on the other. John, who had caught up with the group earlier, put a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. He, Alex, and a few others had been pinned down in an ally way leading to the towns main square for a while now. If they took the square, then the rest of the town should be easy.
  A Solder named Marc Hunter, reached for a grenade and threw it towards the Germans, but he waited too long to get back down. Marc was shot dead where he stood. Inside, something in Alex finally snapped.
  They heard shouts of warning followed by an explosion from the Germans. Without waiting, Alex ripped himself free of Johns grip, jumped out from his cover, aimed his rifle and charged, ignoring the shouts of warning from his fellow solders. He fired his rifle, and not one shot missed as he charged into the square. The others, seeing his fool-hearted charge was working, ran after Alex. Some aimed high and took out the snipers; others covered the roads leading into the square.
  Before long, the group was taking a well earned breather.
  “Alexander Whittaker, I didn’t think you had it in you.” John said as he hit Alex on the shoulder. Alex grinned. But then he heard something metal clink as it landed on the ground.
  “Grenade!” John shouted, but it was too late. The Grenade exploded and the statue that the group had been surrounding blew apart. Alex screamed as he tried to get away, but a piece of rubble flew into his back, and a much larger piece smashed across the back of his head.
  He fell forward onto his face and he felt a warm substance begin to trickle down the side of his face.
  “Alex!” A distant voice called. Alex then felt someone roll him onto his back. Alex looked up and saw the blurry shape of John. “Someone get help! You’ll be okay, Alex.” John whispered. Alex kept staring at John. His blurry shape turned into a vague outline. John’s distant voice began to go from a worried whisper to panicked shouts. “Someone get help!” He screamed again
  Alex let out one last cry of pain as his friends outline turned to a giant blur of color.  Then the color turned to dark