Writing Challenge 3 - A story pre-1950

When I sat down to write this challenge my first thought was to write about medieval stuff, with knights and priest just without magic. High fantasy has always been a genre I loved, but for this one, I tried to simply pick a topic I barely knew about or even had any practice writing. My favourite genres would be horror, fantasy and comedy. I barely touched on sci-fi, war, crime or romance, not that I disliked them. It's just that when I could choose to read a book, I would choose a genre I knew I liked instead of trying out something different. Simply put, being comfortable. 

But these back and forth writings with my friend has been very fun. Especially when we both can see the ideas and thought poured into the stories. It makes me want to try new things.

Here's my story from pre-1950, during the second world war.

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Before the Fears

I could hear nothing but the waves crashing onto the Higgin’s boat and my own heart beating with such intensity as if it would escape from my chest. Reaching for the canteen to quench my dry lips I noticed that my fingers trembled and could barely unscrew it. Seeking for hope from the other members in the boat didn’t make my heart any calmer. All soldiers had eyes that spoke of death.

Their anxieties showed in different ways, some bit their religious necklace, some tried to gulp down the fears like I did, and then there were some who let it flow out all over the boat and on the boots of some men. Not like the ones with stained boots noticed, they were also too distracted by their own mortality.

Our platoon of thirty-six soldiers was led by Lieutenant Attaway. I usually had trouble remembering the names of the officers but Lieutenant Attaway had a catchphrase that he loved to use, if someone called for him he would always sneak in ‘on the way’. He’s a nice guy, with a cheeky smile and always confident in his orders.

That smile and confidence were now gone as if they were washed away by the waves.

I could see his lips move and his arms motioning and pointing on certain things in the air. I couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. The instructions had been drilled into each soldier's mind for weeks. We knew it by heart.

The 1st Infantry Division and the 29th Infantry Division would on the sixth of June invade Omaha Beach and remove the Nazi-occupation. The infantries would be provided with air support in both offensive and defensive measures. Dropping bombs and providing obstacles on the beach. Our landing crafts would reach the beach in the morning, oh seven hundred, and from there we had to push through the Nazi's defensive towers, which had its supplies cut off through paratroopers. The estimated offensive strength from our side were 43 000, theirs were 8 000. We had the advantage. The sixth of June would be the day we liberate the northern Europe from the claws of Nazi-Germany.

I knew all this by heart. But I also knew that I would die today.

The currents were difficult to maneuver, we all stood on the boat not buckling down to the crashing waves that threw in the water on us. The naive would call us brave. The reality was that we were petrified.

Lieutenant Attaway motioned for attention again. This time I tried to focus on what he had to say but it was all in vain. The sound of people being sick in the background and currents pushing us around were too much. From his fingers, I discerned: Oh. Seven. One. Seven. Estimated time to arrive I guess, probably because the currents made us slower to reach the beach.

We are probably closer now because the sound of crashing waves was mixed with the piercing sound of gunfire. I squeezed my gun tighter, squeezing it so hard that my knuckles turned white. The water which was pale blue turned slowly dusty as we reached the beach, probably because of the sand but mostly because of the blood.

Lieutenant Attaway was saying something again, I couldn’t hear it. My heart was all I could hear.

As the doors of our landing craft opened, the nightmare began.