Cobra: Omaha

Reads: 419  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
A unit of US soldiers storms Omaha beach on D-Day.

Submitted: May 09, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 09, 2008



-The following is a fictional account written as a tribute to those who died on the beaches of Normandy to defend our country from Evil.

The air was all but quiet, the crashing of the waves, the shouting of the officers, the sobs of the few cowardly men who had been drafted into service, and the loading of weapons. The landing craft that was carrying Sgt. Robert Dawney and his squad to the beaches of Normandy that day was all but what some would call “calm” or “peaceful” as the terror of the situation they were about to face sunk in.

“Alright men, when we get out there, you will be shot at. Heck, that shouldn’t matter to you men at all after what we’ve been through! But what should matter is that this could very well cause us to win this war, and if you die on us now, the innocent people of Europe will lose their future to this scum! Now men, we approach the beaches, show your courage and your honor, we are Marines! We have the ability to change the course of this war!” shouted Dawney into the air. His speech was answered by a cheer from the men as they turned to the front of the craft. For a few seconds, that dark day was joined by a prelude of silence. This was followed by a thud, as the craft hit ground and the gate opened. The Marines ran out of the gate, but realized too late that they had landed on a sandbar not far offshore. As bullets hit the water from the German machineguns, men screamed and shouted as the weaker swimmers drowned or were carried off by currents.

“Sergeant! Get the men to shore, NOW!” screamed an officer to Dawney.

“Yes Sir!” screamed Dawney over the waves and shouts. “Come on men! Swim through the currents! Dump your packs, move forward!” shouted Dawney to his unit.

“You heard the commander, MOVE IT!” shouted a soldier in response. The soldiers swam through the rough, cold waters and onto the shore, pushing on as many of their own were picked out of the water by the German guns, whose cracking could be heard from far beyond the shore. When they reached the shore, panting and gasping for breath, they took cover behind an empty landing craft.

“Corporal Scott, who did we lose? What’s our status? Talk to me!” rasped Dawney, still short of breath from the swim.

“We lost two Riflemen and a Sub-machinegun to the currents, PFC Wallace is unconscious. We have Lance Corporal Anderson and his sniper rifle, we also have Private Williams and PFC Arthur on rifles, and Private Sanchez with a sub-machinegun. All of ‘em are pretty worn out from the swim, if we’re gonna move, we better do it quickly.” replied Scott.

“Anderson, how’s your gun?” asked Dawney.

“It’ll work, it survived the swim.” replied Anderson. The troops jumped down on the ground as a barrage of gunfire hit the other side of the craft they were using for cover.

“Alright men, lets move! Get to the base of that cliff as fast as you can, but don’t do anything stupid! Take cover as much as you can, we need you all alive, you understand me?” shouted Dawney.

“Yes sir!” replied the Corporal. “Hey, Medic! Get over here!” he shouted to a nearby soldier. The soldier had a red cross on his helmet, and quickly ducked behind the craft and kneeled down to meet them.

“What’s wrong?” said the Medic as he reloaded his weapon.

“We have one unconscious, we’re headed for the cliffs, can you look after him?” asked Scott.

“Yeah, I’ll try get him up and maybe I’ll meet you guys out there.” he replied as he took out a small medical kit from his pack.

“Good, here’s his sniper rifle, see if you can pick off a few of those gunners to cover our advance.” said Scott, removing Wallace’s rifle from the strap across his back and thrusting it into the Medic’s hands.

“Alright, I should be able to hold out long enough here. You men head out and good luck.” replied the Medic, who then began to look down and check Wallace for injuries. The men readied their weapons and each fired a test shot into the air. This alerted the gunners to their presence, bringing down another torrent of gunfire on the craft they were hiding behind.

“Ready men, move in!” shouted Dawney. The men ran out into the sand, invoking another wave of powerful machinegun rounds.

“Take down that gun! I can’t press forward!” shouted Private Sanchez. Corporal Anderson nodded in response and raised his rifle. He took aim and lodged a bullet in the gunner’s eye. This was followed by a massive wave of machinegun rounds randomly spraying in all directions.

“What happened!?” shouted Scott.

“The gunner held down the trigger before he died, the gun’s still firing!” replied Anderson as several rounds kicked up the sand near him. The hail of gunfire finally halted with a loud bang as a cloud of smoke billowed up from the gun.

“Looks like we have someone up there, that was a grenade blast!” said Dawney.

“No, I saw it through my scope. One of the gunner’s grenades went off when he died.” replied Anderson.

“Doesn’t matter, lets move before they get snipers up there!” shouted Scott. The men charged out through the undefended section that had been covered by the destroyed guns. During his charge, PFC Arthur paused to pick up a round from a machinegun that had landed in the sand, and shoved it in his pocket.

“Keep going Arthur, you’ll be a sitting duck if you pause like that!” shouted Private Williams as he grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him up.

“Williams, get down!” shouted Arthur as he shoved Williams aside and fired three quick shots up into a bunker on the cliff, bringing down a German and sending him falling off the edge. Williams stood there for a second and blinked twice, at a loss for words. Arthur picked up the gun Williams dropped and tossed it to him. “No need to thank me.” said Arthur as he smiled and continued his charge.

The squad finally reached the cliff’s base, having picked up Staff Sergeant Peters, a gunner who lost his whole squad on landing, from behind cover. They found a rope attached to a grappling hook that had been set up by men who had went up before them.

“Alright, Sanchez, you’ve got a close-range weapon, you go first and take out anyone that’s up there. Move it soldier!” commanded Dawney. Sanchez saluted and silently began to climb. Dawney and Scott came up, followed by Williams and Arthur, and finally Anderson, who was thinking to himself that he should’ve practiced harder when he was being trained in rope-climbing.

Sanchez finally reached the top and took out two German snipers in a trench a few meters to his right. The rest of the unit came up behind them and drew their weapons.

“Anderson, go scout ahead, check for enemies.” said Scott.

“Yes Sir.” replied Anderson as he set down his rifle and took a pistol from his holster. He set off silently down the trench. Sanchez crept down and peered around a corner. He saw Anderson coming back.

“What did you see Corporal?” said Dawney as Sanchez and Anderson crawled out of the trench.

“There’s a bunker up ahead. Two gunners, two officers, and a guard by the far entrance.” reported Anderson.

“Hmm… We’ll move in, break up, and take out the soldiers inside. Quick and effective.” ordered Dawney.

“Alright men, move out!” said Scott. The men readied their weapons and checked their ammo as they approached the door to the bunker.

“I’ll take an officer, Scott, take out the other one. Peters, set up your gun out here in case anything goes wrong. Arthur, you cover him. Sanchez, run for the guard on the far end. Williams, Anderson, take out the gunners. Alright?” said Dawney.

“Yes Sir.” said Peters, setting up his gun on a crate he had pulled from the side of the trench. Arthur silently kneeled down next to Peters and readied his weapon.

“I’m ready sir.” said Anderson, drawing a pistol and motioning to Williams, who nodded and drew his own handgun. Dawney gave the signal and they all rushed into the room.

“Angriff Truppen! Nehmen Sie sie heraus!” shouted the German officer, as the gunners picked up handguns and began to load. Scott turned and drew his commando knife across the officer’s throat, spraying warm blood into the melee. Sanchez spotted the guard and sprayed him with rounds from his gun. The enemy gunner whipped around and swung a large knife viciously at Sanchez, striking his weapon and shattering the reinforced wooden grip. Seeing the situation from a few feet away, Scott threw his knife and hit the German in his wrist. He dropped the handgun in his other hand and fell to the ground. Sanchez picked up the weapon and fired 2 quick shots into the dying man’s head. Dawney ran up to the remaining officer, who was desperately shouting to his remaining men, and smashed his jaw with the butt of his rifle.

“Verfluchen Sie Sie amerikanischer Abschaum!” shouted the officer, spewing blood and teeth from his mouth as he fell to the ground in a pool of blood. Dawney, disgusted by the sight, bent over and vomited. Anderson smacked the remaining gunner across the face with the top of his pistol, drawing his attention while Williams came up behind him, grabbed him, and hurled the screaming soldier out of the bunker window and down to the sand below. The bunker was silent, all noise but the panting of the exhausted men had ended.

“What’s…our status…Corporal Scott.” gasped Dawney between breaths.

Scott kneeled down next to him, “Sir, all of ours survived, no injuries. But Sanchez’s weapon is destroyed.” he said as he reloaded his gun and slung it over his shoulder. Just then, a gunshot rang out.

“I’m sorry… Sergeant...” gasped Arthur, and fell flat on his face with a thud. Peters whirled around his weapon and opened fire. He kept firing until he ran out of ammunition and the gun was so hot that a huge burst of steam exploded from the end of the barrel. What remained was a bullet-riddled German corpse that was barely identifiable as human. Peters ran up to the corpse and started to viciously kick the mass of deformed flesh into the dirt side of the trench.

“Peters! Enough! Stop!” shouted Scott, desperately trying to get Peters to stop. Peters grumbled under his breath and returned to his weapon.

“Sergeant! Arthur’s still alive!” shouted Sanchez, who had propped up the delirious Arthur against the wall. Peters immediately ran over to him and checked him over.

“He’s alive, but he’s in bad shape. If we don’t get him out soon, it won’t be good.” shouted Peters. Dawney approached Arthur and bent down next to him, signaling Peters to get back to his weapon. He handed a gun to Arthur and looked him in the eye.

“We’re going to scout ahead to see if we can get a medic to get you out of here. We’re counting on you and Peters to cover our backs. If anyone comes through that entrance, put a round in their teeth, you hear?” said Dawney as he loaded the weapon for Arthur.

“Yes sir, it’s not over sir.” said Arthur, blood dripping from the side of his mouth with each word. He saluted Dawney and took the weapon. Just as Dawney was standing up, a burst of gunfire came from Peters’ direction.

“Sanchez, Williams, get out here NOW!” shouted Peters, letting loose fire from his weapon. Sanchez and Williams immediately ran out, weapons ready.

“What’s happening?!” said Sanchez, holding his handgun high.

“Soldiers are gathering near the top of the trench, they know we’re here.” said Peters.

“Oh what are the odds of that? With your random shots and that little episode with the last enemy.” said Williams, sarcastically.

“Hey, why don’t you try to-“

“SHUT UP! While you two are arguing, more assault troops are gathering at the end of the trench. Just give it up and get ready!” shouted Scott, cutting off Peters before he could finish his sentence.

“Scott, set up your radio, see if you can get reinforcements!” shouted Dawney, who then aimed out of the trench and fired a shot. A man fell into the trench, writhing in pain and oozing large amounts of blood from his chest.

“Die Amerikaner haben zuerst abgefeuert! Angriff!” shouted a German from outside the trench. Dawney’s men readied their weapons and set their knives next to them.

“Für Deutschland!” screamed the Officer, and fired a shot into the air. The Germans came rushing down the trench.

As soon as they rounded the bend a few meters down the trench, Peters opened fire with his machinegun, tearing through three of them. The gun’s firing began to slow and a cloud of steam began to rise from the barrel until the gun stopped completely.

“Overheated! Take them out!” screamed Peters, taking a pistol from his belt and raising it. Another two Germans came around the corner, Sanchez fired several shots and hit his mark. The wounded German staggered to the wall and watched as his comrade was killed. He picked up his fallen friend’s pistol and fired four quick shots. Two of them hit the ground, kicking dirt into Peter’s face as he desperately tried to cool off his weapon. The other two shots hit their mark, striking Williams in the arm and shoulder. He fell backwards, screaming, and was pulled back into the bunker by Dawney.

“Sergeant, get out here! We can’t hold ‘em alone!” shouted Sanchez, who had picked up Williams’ rifle and was firing at German riflemen who had taken up positions on top of the far end of the trench and were firing at them. A German round hit the crate that Peters had set up his weapon on, and it shattered. A loud blast rang out from the end of the trench, and a German went flying forwards into the trench, dying the dirt red with blood pouring from a large wound in his back. The other rifleman jumped down into the trench and fired shots wildly upwards as he ran from three American soldiers who had come to the top of the trench. Screaming curses in German, he was gunned down by Sanchez and fell on the corpse of his comrade.

Finally, the gunfire stopped. And the Americans on the end of the trench moved on to join the rest of their squad. Not only had the firefight ended, but the gunfire had almost completely stopped all around them. The air was silent, until Dawney turned around.

“Scott, what’s Williams’ status?” he said.

“He’s dead, sir. The shots tore through two major arteries.” said Scott, his head bowed.

“…And Arthur?” continued Dawney, nervously.

“He’s unconscious, but he’ll live. The round didn’t hit anything vital.”said Scott, “But I think I’ve got contact on the radio.” he continued.

“Really? Get it working!” said Sanchez, who had just walked into the room.

Scott turned a dial on the side of the radio, and a static crackle grew loud, then quieted down as a voice emerged from the noise.

“All units to the cliffs, we have victory! The German defenders have been eliminated! Repeat, we have victory, all units to the cliffs!” said the voice of an Officer.

“You heard the radio, lets get out of this bunker and meet the rest of the men!” said Peters.

“Peters is right, him and I will go ahead and bring back a medic for Arthur and Williams.” Sanchez said as he holstered his pistol and put his knife in its sheath. Peters stood up and followed Sanchez out of the trench.

“Ungh… What happened?” said Arthur as he began to regain consciousness.

“A squad of Germans attacked, you were hit, but we took ‘em down.” said Scott.

“Where are Sanchez and Peters?” said Arthur.

“They went ahead to get a medic for you.” Dawney replied.

“…And Williams?” he continued.

“He’s dead, Private.” said Dawney, sadly.

Arthur’s faint smile faded and he leaned back against the wall and sighed loudly. He didn’t reply and simply looked away.

“We’re back, we brought a Medic!” came Sanchez’s voice from the trench outside. Arthur smiled again and the whole unit began to move out, carrying Williams on a stretcher, and helping Arthur stagger onwards.

© Copyright 2019 Malcontent. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


More War and Military Short Stories