The waves crashed against the shore furiously, washing up the tin prison cells that would bring thousands of young, tough, often inexperienced men to their deaths. BOOM! A shell landed on one of the boats, a direct hit; huge explosions of fuel, metal and torn limbs washed over into the sea. Flaming oil burned on the water as cannon fire hit the front of the ship.
One man dressed in the dark green uniform and black boots, filth covered every visible inch of his skin. Unsteadily, he took a drink from his canteen and silently prayed as he kissed the cross attached to his necklace. The man next to him wretched violently as his stomach emptied itself of all content. At the back of the boat the driver looked fierce in his khaki jacket and helmet, the gun on his back locked and loaded ready to kill. He looked upon the men that sat in their seats and noticed the way their hands shook uncontrollably as they neared deaths row.
âClear the ramp! Thirty seconds!â
The sergeant stood strong and assertively shouted orders using a tone that suggested he knew his men would be okay.
âIâll see you back here when this is all over, when weâve won.â Not really knowing if he himself would live. His face took on a cold hard mask as he watched as the men around him crouched into position wincing at the sound of bombs exploding and guns screeching, silently preparing themselves for what was about to come. The ramp opened and like lightening; they made a mad...