The Summer I Invaded Normandy workshop essay

I was there when the beach was taken.

Smoke blurred my vision and watered my eyes. I crouched behind a wooden barrier, sweat drenching my body as I tried to figure out a plan. The sun was at its zenith, glaring down viciously upon me and the teeming mass of people fighting for their lives. We were nearing the edge of the German’s defenses, and the firefight was becoming ever more dangerous. I could hear swearing and cries of distress coming from up ahead. I had to get back in the fight. It was kill or be killed. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to my knees and tried to peer over my bunker, sticking my head out like an overly paranoid prairie dog.

 Pop Pop Pop!

I flung myself flat just in time as my hideout was peppered with a barrage of angry projectiles. I lay there for a few seconds, letting my pounding heart slow before I forced myself to rise again. This time I peered through a hole in my wooden protector, and I could see several dark forms, well protected by the shadows and walls of their defenses. I slumped down against the wood and glanced behind me, thinking. That’s when I saw him. In the initial rush I had become separated from my unit, but now I saw one of them, crouched several yards back, using a metal barrel for protection. I could see he was in a bad spot, and besides being in my squad, he was a good of mine. So I yelled out to him,

“Chris! Over here! Make a run for it I’ll cover you!”

He gave me a quick nod, and tensed his body up like a runner waiting for the starter gun. Clenching my gun with my right hand, I held up my left and gave him the countdown.

“Three, Two, One… Go!”

I spun and rose at the same time popping my gun and head over the barrier, firing before I even had a target sighted. All I had to do was keep the German’s from firing at Chris until he slid into safety. Hopefully I could keep them off myself as well. I frantically pumped the trigger of my gun as I heard projectiles slam into my bunker, and when I felt a few graze my clothing, I dropped like a rock. As I lay on the ground, ammunition still zinging by overhead, I glanced over and saw Chris crouching next to me.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Chris said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ha! Maybe for you,” I said, “I was the one they were all aiming for.”

“Eh whatever,” he said as he started to stick his head out, looking for the enemy.

“Chris be care-“ I stared to say, but before I could finish I heard him yell and a split second later fall back behind the bunker. He looked at me, his eyes wide and his jaw sagging in shock.

“A- Am I hit?” he stammered.

I slowly reached over and felt the oozing liquid staining his forehead. With a sinking feeling I realized that he’d been shot in the head. I wanted to lie to him but I couldn’t.

“I’m sorry buddy, but you’re dead.”

He groaned. “Aw shit.”

Then he stood up, waved his hands over his head, and shouted, “I’m dead! Don’t shoot!”

As I watched him walk off the field, I realized that I was once again alone behind my sad wooden bunker. I stared down at my fingers, squishing around the oozing white paint I had wiped from Chris’s forehead. I peeked out as I had several times before and saw that the Allied forces had pushed forward some more. I pondered for a moment whether I should wait for Chris to come back. But… I had to help the troops.

I decided. I wiped my fingers on my camo pants, hefted my paintball gun, and tensed myself. Taking a deep breath I leaped into open space. It was time to kill or be killed.

After all, this was war… wasn’t it?