Bloody Omaha - My Remembrances of That Day by James Robert Copeland

Author:Garry Graves; James Copeland
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 0984446257
Publisher: GGA Publishing Inc.
Published: 2010-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

More Training in Europe

Chapter Five

D-Day and Bloody Omaha Beach

The evening of June 5, 1944 was like all others except with a tinge of nervous tension filling the air. Soldiers busied themselves with card playing, writing letters and attending religious services. Surely, many soldiers felt tomorrow might be their last day on earth.

Naturally, the Army wakes up early but the morning of June 6, 1944 came sooner than normal. They awoke at 3:00 A.M., with not one soldier lagging in their step as they new their mission and were anxious to ‘get to it,’ as JR’ would say.

Breakfast was plentiful and varied; steak, sausage, bacon, eggs, fruit—only a healthy appetite kept the soldiers from gorging themselves on the bounty. JR grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee, while tending to equipment details of his men. Focused and determined—JR’ thought plenty about his responsibility and mission. They were paramount in his mind.

“Our section had a lot of stuff to carry and we had to check that it was all there and in its proper place.”

As 4:45 A.M. soldiers begun loading inside the many LCV (Landing Craft Vehicle), stationed on the deck of the Prince Leopold. The LCV was to be lowered into the water while other soldiers were to climb down rope ladders into waiting LCV’s. Thousands of men made up the first wave. The staging of boats with men and equipment were critical to a meticulously planned invasion. Very little chaos appeared but it wasn’t a walk in the park either. Shit happens!

All soldiers were told that if someone fell in the water, too bad—leave them. If a weapon discharged, killing someone, push them aside and carryon. Everything and everybody moved forward and the clock was running. The plan had a schedule to maintain.

JR’ was a cool-character by nature. His coolness probably aided him in obtaining his rank of Staff Sergeant and the command of sixteen men. He knew what he had to do from the start and he was good at it.

“My men were ready to go, they wanted some action . . . they had waited long enough,” JR’ laughed.

“Rangers were tough . . . all of us had been through hell in training for times just like this—we all wanted to get to the beach and kill Germans.”

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