The Broken Promise.

THE BROKEN PROMISE

The fog covered the Normandy coast like a grey, damp blanket. Every breath I took felt bitter and polluted along with the strong smell of fired ammo and rotten flesh. The bloodstained waves lashed the sides of the landing craft. Attempting to capsize the vessel and fail the mission before I had even stepped foot onto the ghostly shores of Omaha Beach.

I was U.S 1st Infantry Division Captain Bourne, and I was given orders by Lieutenant General Omar Bradley, along with the 166th and 29th regiments of the 2nd division, to attempt to break through the defences set up by the Germans at the Normandy shorelines. I felt sick with the thought that the last minutes of my life would be spent on this god forsaken foreign soil, away from my quiet house perched on the slopping Oklahoma landscape overlooking the family wheat valleys.

I looked at the men beside me. They looked out to the shores to see men, just like themselves, being needlessly slaughtered; all of the men with the same pale, motionless expressions on their faces, as if they were already dead. The screaming of machine gun fire deafened my ears and occasionally I heard the ghostly roars of exploding claymore mines. The landing craft began to slow and I realised it was time! The crafts opening hatch flew open slamming itself into the seawater. Beside me I heard the cry,

“Attack, attack, breech the defences!”

I leaped into the sea, the icy water up to my waist. In taking a mouthful of bloody seawater in the process. I began to trench my way forward towards to shoreline. Bullets flew passed me, and men behind me were toppling into the sea painted in bullet fire. I eventually made it onshore and my boots began sinking in the corps-covered sand. Amongst the killing and confusion I had found a safety point behind a wall of barbed wire. I took cover there, but nearly fell over the dead soldiers scattered over the coastline like burnt, withered matchsticks. I lay down low holding my rifle close to my damp pounding chest. I slowly, cautiously turned my head to look through the wired barricade; I realised how close I was to the German resistance bases. If I could just get to my feet I would have a clean shot at the German soldiers handling the artillery machine guns. I thought that the best way to make a clearing would be to throw a grenade in the opening of one of the concreted resistance bases, therefore allow the remaining soldiers to get past the formidable defences safely. I delved my hand into my right trouser pocket, clenching my gun with the other, and pulled out a sandy, wet standard U.S grenade. I placed my gun on the sand and put my finger in the grenade detonation clip, my finger trembled with anticipation.

I got to my knees and readied myself. Then I lunged to my feet and pulled my arm back ready to throw, but then amidst the fog and killing I show a machine gun turret aiming straight at me; it began spraying bullets in my direction! I attempted to leap down for safety, but my attempts failed. I had taken a collection of bullets to my shoulder and the undetonated grenade fell to the floor beside me. I slouched in to the sand and felt my shoulder oozing out blood. Everything began to fall silent and everything seemed to turn ...

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I awoke to see a strong ray of bright light. The light was so bright my eyes couldn’t withstand the blinding rays. I could hear voices, toneless and dull, telling me that it wasn’t my time and that I still had a purpose! But whom did these voices belong to? What wasn’t my time? What purpose did I still have to serve? I attempted to open my eyes to see who these strangers were but I couldn’t! Suddenly the light and voices began slowly fading away into the distance and I felt myself falling rapidly, but where would I land? And what had I just experienced?

I wrenched open my eyes. I was lying on my back in a bed. Looking up at a canvas tent roof. I sat myself up to inspect my new surroundings. There were four other white linen beds in the tent with no one in them, each with a tray of blood medical instruments beside them. Between each of the beds also were curtain dividers; the bed next to me had its curtains drawn. It was obvious to me that I was in a military medical camp. I attempted to get out of the bed, but then I felt a sear of throbbing pain shoot through my right shoulder. The arm in which I had taken a bullet was gone! Fully removed! This couldn’t be reality. I was still in my soldier’s uniform; there was sand and bloodstains imbedded into the fibres. I could even feel the suns beams trying to seep through the tents canvas roofing. I began contemplating what had just happened to me. Where had I just been? There was no logical, reasonable explanation. The only explanation I could render was that I had just died, but came back to life! Maybe I came back because I still had a purpose, yes . . . that made sense . . . that’s what the voices were saying, that I still had a meaning in life, but what? My thoughts were interrupted by the presence of a tall, skinny, black haired doctor clenching onto a clipboard. He walked towards me and stood by the side of my bed and began speaking, “Well good morning Captain Bourne. You sure are one of the luckiest soldiers on this earth; most men that lose over five pints of blood are pretty much dead, but you sir, you somehow survived, with the sad loss of your arm of course, but the thing had to come off, otherwise your whole body would have been infected!”

The doctor began telling me how after I died, or delved into a coma as he put it, the remaining infantry soldiers managed to destroy the German defences. Then after that the military decide to put up numerous medical camps on the beach to try and help the remaining survivors two days later. He went on to say that they found me half covered in sand and debris. I was then brought in and treated too, and have been in a coma ever since. The loss of my arm came as a tremendous shock to me, but I was grateful that I was still alive.

Later that day, after I had eaten a vegetable soup ration for dinner, I heard a voice from behind the curtain next to me; the voice belonged to a man, he was crying. He was mumbling something about being trapped and needing to find help. Then his cries turned into violent yells and screams,

“What’s happening? Why can’t anyone hear me? People need to know that he is beneath the base, I made a solemn promise!”

He then began sobbing again. I called to the doctor. He arrived immediately, shocked by the tone of my voice. I asked the doctor to help the man veiled by the curtain and that he was crying for help. The doctor took a weary step back from me. He then began speaking,

“That’s impossible that you can hear the man behind that curtain captain.”

I asked him why?

“Well . . . he is . . . I’ll show you.”

He turned to the curtain and drew it back to reveal the back of soldier. He then turned the figure over onto his other side so I could see him, but for what I saw in reply to my question utterly horrified me. The man I was staring at had burns all over his face, including his lips and eyelids! The doctor stated that I must have imagined what I heard, and that the man opposite had burns so appalling to his face that he would never be able to speak again. I looked deep into the man’s eyes; they were misty and green. In the corner of his eye I could see a tear forming, it trickled down his nose and down his cheek, he let out a groan of pain as the salty tear aggravated his raw burns.

What had I just heard? It made no sense. The man’s pleas to find this person beneath the base, the voices, still being alive! But wait . . . what if I wasn’t hearing the man’s cries, but I was hearing his thoughts! That would explain why the doctor couldn’t hear the man. As farfetched as it seemed, this was the only explanation I could think of. It made sense that in the loss of my arm I gained something in return, that thing was the power to hear people’s thoughts! I understood why I didn’t die; that the purpose I still had to serve was to find this lost man, with the aid of this new sent power!

I screamed for the doctor once more, he patiently strolled in. I began emptying all my thoughts out to the doctor, who simply stared at me with a simplified, sympathetic expression. He then said,

“ Captain, you have faced a terrible ordeal, its no surprise that you’re hearing things!”

I outstretched my arm and grabbed hold of the doctor’s white overcoat. I told him that if he didn’t get a search squad to the bombed resistance site immediately I would make his face look just like that of the man in the bed beside me. I released the doctor hesitantly and he scampered out of the tent to alert the search.

I lay in that bed for what seemed like an eternity, waiting to see if the doctor would walk in telling me they recovered a survivor, or nothing but more decaying corpses. I got my wish, what felt like, hours later. The doctor ran in with a bewildered smile on his face along with two another men who were wearing dirty overalls and holding large oil lamps. The doctor told me that they found a survivor; that the man they recovered was a German private who knew classified information on Hitler’s whereabouts. He went on to say that he was suffering form a broken rib and dehydration, but nevertheless he would live for interrogation. The two men then left the tent, and left the doctor and me alone; the doctor left a while after to tend another patients wounds in a tent close by. I took my chance and got to my feet. I slowly walked to the opening of the tent. I swept the tents canvas door to one side and continued to walk outside. I found myself looking upon the battle zone. Bodies were still lying on the sand untouched. Guns and helmets scattered all over the shoreline.

The sun had begun to settle now and it left a golden tint over the land. I closed my eyes and thought hard of being home, seeing my wife and children waving from the porch. I could even smell the fresh cut wheat and feel the autumn sun warmly, massaging my cold cheeks. I felt safe now. I was finally home.

By Terry Cave

10.8

10Y1

Terry Cave

G.C.S.E Coursework