TDTLBU Chapter Forty-Six

Warning: Contains PTSD and emotionally traumatic scenes

There was one thing on the minds of every single man that night… and one thing only. Had they really accomplished what they set out to do? And if so… what the hell were they supposed to do next?

When at last the enemy had been cleared from the deadly cliffs, the survivors had marched up, away from the bloody beach and into the fields beyond. They hadn’t gotten far, overwhelmed by exhaustion and shell-shock. The farthest of them had only gotten a mile inland. All between that point and the shoreline, thousands of troops swarmed over the ground, carrying in wounded and throwing together makeshift camps.

After that one mad burst of adrenaline when he and his men had broken through, Ronnie was spent. He slumped wearily to the ground, gazing into the distance without seeing. Tortured gray eyes stared blankly out of a face streaked with dirt and blood and tears. Thousands of men lay sprawled on the ground around him, broken by the scenes they had been witness to. Only a few short hours behind them, images from the battle were still fresh in their minds… playing over and over to the point of insanity. Ronnie couldn’t shut it out. Now he was gradually becoming aware of pain… throbbing in his shoulder, his leg, and in the side of his head. He wondered vaguely how many times he must have been shot and yet he didn’t care. 

In the turmoil of the invasion, Ronnie had lost track of every single man in his unit… except for Sandy. He had managed to follow Ronnie all the way across the beach and eventually up the cliffs. He sat beside him now, holding his helmet in bandaged and trembling hands.

“You okay?” He repeated the question three times before Ronnie heard him. In answer, Ronnie only shook his head, never moving his glassy stare from the horizon. But when Sandy asked him a fifth time, he managed to find his voice.

“My brother died today,” he spoke in a low voice, haunted by the memory of Josh’s limp body on the bloody sand.

“Your brother?” Sandy frowned, confused. “I thought you only had one brother and he…”

“I have many brothers,” Ronnie clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head. “And most of them are dead.”

Sandy understood then. He swallowed hard, tears filling his eyes. They sat in silence together… the only ones left of what had once been a full unit… how long ago had they been together? Had it really only been that morning? Or had it been a lifetime? 

“Hey, stranger!” 

Ronnie jerked his head up at the voice. Beside him, Sandy sucked in his breath.

"Golly… they made it.” he muttered under his breath. “Whaddya know?”

“You still alive, Chief? What happened t’yer hair, Sandy? It’s black… and all yer freckles are blacked out.” Sam was striding towards them, grinning wildly as if he were half-insane. Dan and Andy trailed along behind, Andy limping but grinning just as widely as Sam was. 

“Where’d ya go off to?” Sandy yelped as he jumped to his feet. “We thought you were all dead.”

“Can say the same for the both of you,” Dan sighed as he flopped to the ground, flinging aside his helmet and rifle. “Did anyone else make it out?”

“Haven’t seen Ralph or Ken or Torpedo or Cat…” Sandy frowned, counting them out on his fingers. “Or Tom or Jimmy or Bud…”

“We left Ken and Ralph back with the medics,” Andy spoke up. “They’re hurt pretty bad, but they should make it.”

“And the others?”

“Josh is dead,” Ronnie stated bluntly. “I carried him off the beach, but he was already dead. I don’t know what happened to Mac… I lost track of him. Jimmy was shot when we got off the boats.”

“Ya mean…” Sandy choked over the words. “We’ve lost Torpedo? And li'l Jimmy?"

“Torpedo always drove me nuts,” Dan sighed. “But I’m sure gonna miss that kid. He wasn’t half-bad.”

“Just more energy than he knew what to do with,” Sam laughed humorlessly. “And Jimmy… he was so young. So, so young. Tom and Bud are both gone too. Never even got a chance to fight… they were so new…”

“So much for being replacements.” Sandy shook his head. “Half of us made it then. Worse ‘n I ever thought.”

“Who wants to think about it?” Ronnie muttered. “Almost wish the damn Krauts had picked me off too. I’m sick of war.”

“You do know there’s a bullet hole in your chest, right?” Dan was staring at Ronnie, his eyes wide. “You sure you’re okay?”

Without answering, Ronnie glanced down at his shirt front, seeing for the first time the ragged hole pierced through it. He had never felt a thing. 

“Funny…” he muttered. “It doesn’t… really hurt.”

“How are you not dead?” Andy raised his eyebrows. “You immortal or something?”

**“It… didn’t even… hit me…” He paused, frowning, and reached into his shirt pocket to pull out his Bible. The bullet was bored through the cover of the Book, piercing halfway through. “Saved my life,” he said incredulously, flipping through the little Book until he reached the page where the bullet had stopped. It had paused above a single verse as if marking the spot.  A chill ran down his spine as he silently read the words… over and over.

A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.**

“Why me?” he whispered, tears falling onto the crumpled page. “Josh should have lived… Jimmy should have lived… not me. Why me, Lord?”

✯✯✯

Why was it so deathly still? Had he gone deaf as well as blind and immobile? Mac struggled to see, to hear, to be aware of anything at all. It was black and silent all around him. The battle couldn’t have ended. It must be raging on and on forever, until every single man was dead. Or maybe… maybe they were already all dead. No one could have survived that piece of pure hell. Maybe he was dead himself. It wasn’t what he had imagined death would be like. But of course, he had no way of knowing.

A sudden sound close by him drew his attention. A groan… a cry of pain. He was half-torn with relief at a human sound and dread at the thought of still being alive. For of course no one would cry like that in heaven. He was gradually gaining awareness of his surroundings and now he could hear groaning… crying… screaming… the wretched sounds of the wounded and dying on all sides. He knew that he himself was crying out too. For with the awareness came the pain and it was pain unimaginable. So intense that he could hardly believe it was real.

Voices spoke in the distance… rational sounds in the midst of dying cries. They came closer, withdrew into the background, and came close again. Not far from where he lay, a Quad passed by. He could hear the engines of dozens of others, driving back and forth over the sand. He reached out, feeling around him. A man lay draped across his left arm, completely lifeless. He freed his arm, relieved to find it was still there and he could still move it. He shifted sideways, bumping into another man who groaned loudly. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel bloody, shredded flesh beneath his fingers. 

“You alive?” the man gasped, reaching out to grasp Mac’s arm.

“Think… so…” Mac managed, his voice hoarse. 

“We gonna die out here?” the man’s voice shook.

“Dunno. S’pose so.” 

The other man lapsed into silence, making no sound other than rasping breaths every few seconds. He was breathing too slowly… and his breath was slowing as Mac listened. Within minutes, he was gasping for air.

“Hate t’... die out here…” the man spoke at last, his voice a mere dying whisper. “Who’ll plant the… corn… next spring?... Annie’s… waitin’... for me… she’s… countin'... on me… gotta… make it… home…”

He was breathing no longer. Mac clamped his teeth on his lower lip to keep from screaming in agony. The horror of lying there among the dying and the dead shook him to the very marrow of his bones. He could feel himself growing weaker and he wondered how wounded he was… but he couldn’t move enough to check. Or maybe he was afraid… afraid of finding out just how crushed his body was. He knew he was losing consciousness again and he fought it wildly. As terrifying as being awake was, it was ultimately more terrifying to slip into unconsciousness and be even more helpless than he was now.

Someone was kneeling by his side, gripping his wrist, placing a hand over his heart to feel his heartbeat.

“This one’s alive,” a voice called and then spoke to him, quieter. “We’re gonna get you out of here, buddy, just hold on a bit longer. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Can’t… see…” Mac muttered. “Dark…”

“Here. It’s just dirt.” The man beside him wiped away the dirt and ashes on Mac's face with his sleeve. Mac blinked in the gathering twilight, stunned to see the gray sky above him. He turned his head then, his heart nearly stopping at the sight of the beach.

Blood. Everywhere. Red sand, red water. Bloody Omaha.

“They’re all dead,” he whispered, trembling. “They’re all dead.”

**True event