For those of you that dont already know, Im a bit of a World War II geek. I dive into every book and movie I can get my hands on, mainly because its still relatively close to us and the strife some of these men volunteered for is unfathomable. But honestly, I digest any military story of courage, sacrifice, victory, and even defeat I can find. Ive come to realize its my way of reminding myself that there are men and women in this world that have persevered through more difficulty than I could even shake a stick at. Im in awe of those that serve. Youre life is on the line so I can sit here, prepare for my mens ministry meeting and church group, enjoy a nice glass of bourbon in my safe house, drive to a job of my choosing and earn a decent wage, and watch the sunrise over this beautiful country. I will never be able to repay that, but i will damn sure always respect you, honor your sacrifice, and pass that sentiment on to my children so the next generation knows how good they have it and why. This may be a bit long, but take some time to read this short snippet from a book Im reading called Voices of the Pacific. This piece is during the storming of the beach in Peleliu in 1944. Imagine experiencing this, living through it, and telling the story years later in such detail. Most of these guys were just kids, enlisting at 17 or 18 years of age. Amazing dedication to a country and their fellow soldiers. God bless each and every one of you, and for those deployed may you return safely home. Thank you, for everything. As I was making my way toward the beach, I saw another Marine about a hundred feet ahead of me. Just as I saw him, a huge shell hit between us. A huge geyser of water rose up about fifty feet in the air and I thought my eardrums were broken. When the water fell back, I could not see the other Marine. All of a sudden he rose up, took a few steps, and fell again. He must have been up and down about five times. I finally caught up to him, and he was screaming, “Please help me!” He put his arm over my shoulder and we started for the beach. We both fell about three more times. We finally made it to the beach. It had a five- foot- high bank where the waves had eroded the coastline. This offered us some safety from the Jap machine guns. I had no idea who this Marine was or what outfit he was from. We were both exhausted. I lay back against the bank to catch my breath and looked out to sea. From the reef onto the beach the water was littered with wreckage. Many of the amtracs were on fire. While looking, I saw one boat take a direct hit. Marines flew twenty feet in the air. It seemed to all be in slow motion. Body parts, legs, and arms splashed everywhere. I turned my attention to the wounded Marine. He had been hit in the rear end. The right side of his rear was barely hanging to his body. I told him to stay put and to stay on his stomach. He was in terrible pain and thrashing around so much I was afraid he would tear his whole ass cheek off. I pulled him up as close to the bank as I could. I took a quick look back toward the boat that I was on, and I saw nothing of my men. What men I did see were from other units. I told him I had to go forward and try to locate my outfit. He was begging me not to leave him. Then I left. I never saw him again. The shit was really hitting the fan, the enemy fire was so intense. I saw a Jap run out of one of the caves. He was in flames from head to toe. He was cut down by gunfire before he had gone two feet. Private Dignan screamed, “I’m hit! I’m hit”! Shrapnel had broken his right hand in half. I asked him if he could crawl back to the beach, and he said he thought he could if he didn’t have to carry his rifle. I told him to forget the rifle and just go.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 02:25:35 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015