Professor Dietz English 112 Collin Habib Inquiry Three Creative Non-Fiction Narrative June 6, 1944
Dog-Green Sector, Omaha Beach The Atlantic waves rolled into us from all sides and angles, knocking us around in our rectangular, metal boat like …show more content…
Believe me when I tell you the undersea was a spectacularly terrifying site. A combination of impressive visuals comes to mind. As I looked above from the Ocean’s murky floor, I could see falling corpses leaking a magnificently bright crimson. Minuscule torpedoes penetrated through the water leaving their forgiveness well behind. Booming explosions astounded my harassed eardrums. After resurfacing with the help of a floating coarse. I then had no choice other than to wad courageously through the bullet swarm, finally resting behind a barrier with a few of my camouflaged colleagues. My body was finally in somewhat security, but my senses would continue to torment my troubled soul with what seemed like no end. I saw a group of five good men run off their ship enflamed and screaming an earsplitting howl of despair. I saw a man who could undoubtedly be labeled a boy cry for his momma while his split open body slowly bled out. My most frequent observation, however; were those combatants who would run blindly up the beach to encounter a detonating mine that would send their body through the French air in a dozen
Dog-Green Sector, Omaha Beach The Atlantic waves rolled into us from all sides and angles, knocking us around in our rectangular, metal boat like …show more content…
Believe me when I tell you the undersea was a spectacularly terrifying site. A combination of impressive visuals comes to mind. As I looked above from the Ocean’s murky floor, I could see falling corpses leaking a magnificently bright crimson. Minuscule torpedoes penetrated through the water leaving their forgiveness well behind. Booming explosions astounded my harassed eardrums. After resurfacing with the help of a floating coarse. I then had no choice other than to wad courageously through the bullet swarm, finally resting behind a barrier with a few of my camouflaged colleagues. My body was finally in somewhat security, but my senses would continue to torment my troubled soul with what seemed like no end. I saw a group of five good men run off their ship enflamed and screaming an earsplitting howl of despair. I saw a man who could undoubtedly be labeled a boy cry for his momma while his split open body slowly bled out. My most frequent observation, however; were those combatants who would run blindly up the beach to encounter a detonating mine that would send their body through the French air in a dozen