Bloody Sand

The following thoughts were brought upon by the movie Saving Private Ryan, which I had to watch in my US History class.  My teacher wanted the class to write about what would be going through a soldiers head when they landed on Omaha Beach.  The following is what I thought a soldier could be thinking.

Why am I here? I would rather be anywhere else on this planet, then on this boat, in this Godforsaken sea, right now. The faces on the men around me tell the same sad story. Sickness . . . there is a terrible sickness deep in my stomach. It twists and turns. The sea is twisting around in my stomach, instead of outside the boat. Move . . . move . . . move out of my way. I don't think the men would appreciate my twisting insides on their uniforms. Whoooo . . . I made it. It seems that I'm not the only one with a churning stomach. The sea. The twisting, horrible sea that carries me and the others to what I can only imagine will be terrible. The sea that stretches all around me, carrying thousands of men to an awaiting stretch of beach. The beach . . . Omaha Beach. I can now see the beach. With each passing second the sea carries me closer. Wait . . . why did the boat stop? Oh yes, I remember now. This is the stop that I must get out at.

Oh my god! What's happening? Bullets . . . bullets everywhere and all around me. Duck . . . move . . . duck . . .move, move! Bodies falling everywhere I turn. I'm surrounded by death. Must get to the beach. Water . . . water all around me. A bloody water that pushes me down . . . down, down, down to the bottom. Hands . . . hands pulling me back, back to earth. Back to the death awaiting me on the beach. Air. Breathe . . . breathe again. Silence . . . silence surrounding me. Why can I only hear what I'm thinking? Don't look around. Don't look at what you know is there.

Sand. Blood. Sand. Bloody sand. A bloody sand strewn with bodies and I've only just arrived. Shoot. Shoot to kill. That's why I'm here . . . to shoot to kill. Kill the Germans.

Blood. Blood on me. My blood. Blood means I'm shot. Sand. Sand rushing up to meet me. Noise. Noise all around me. Me calling for a medic. Hands turning me over. Eyes. Eyes filled with horror staring into mine. He's here to help me, but I know it's too late. Too late to save me.