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Poem:

As the bullets
flew we advanced through the water.
We had our orders: take the beach.
In our seven boats
Able Company rode the tide.

Easier said than done...
We lost two boats to shells on the approach -
and when we saw the beach
we could barely believe our eyes
"No shingle, no wall, no shell holes, no cover.
Nothing!"

Into the water as the ramps went down.
As if on cue, metal rain fell.
A new Red Sea created by
machinegun fire
and no Moses to part the way.

Omaha beach. Also known as Hell.
Most didn't even make land
and a lot of those that did
were carried in by the tide.
Dead.
The rest of us had no packs,
no helmets, no rifles.
Travel light, or die.

Under the cover of bombsmoke
I made it to a narrow defilade.
There I prayed, and rested.
Then I looked at my watch.
My God, was it only an hour?