"I will never forget the sight.
Ships as far as the eye could see, all the way out to the horizon.
Thousands of men, ten thousands even, all across the beach. Some were still cleaning up the scrap and bodies from the fight 3 days prior.
The tank traps the Germans had set up had mostly been dismantled, the few that remained were still dark red with the blood of our fellow soldiers.
So many had lost their lives here, all to take this beach, all to secure what would be our way into Europe to free the people of Nazi rule.
Here we stood then. 48 men. We started with 150 and this is who remained. Two third gone in the blink of an eye. Everyone knew those wouldn't be the last casualties before Berlin.
It was cold. Everything was. The wind, the sea, the souls of our fellow men. Even with this 'victory' morale was mixed.
So O'Malley decided to do something to cheer up the boys. He gathered everyone around and told them to watch.
He took his lucky dollar, an old coin he got from his pops and always carried in his breast pocket, and threw it in the air. Everyone's eyes followed as it flipped higher and higher, not showing any signs of stopping. It seemed like it wanted to reach the clouds themselves.
Then it vanished.
And out of thin air, the men gasping at the sudden appearance, a huge crate appeared and plummeted to the ground.
A loud THUD as it smashed into the ground, sand thrown into the faces of the soldiers closest to its' landing spot.
'Watch this!' O'Malley shouted as he approached the crate. The lid suddenly swung open and what can only be described as thunderous music played from seemingly all around us. Out of the crate three giant cards or posters appeared and hung in the air, each showing a picture.
'Check out what I got boys! Come closer! Come closer!' O'Malley screamed joyously.
He suddenly held an unfamiliar rifle in his hands, maybe German made going by the design, and was busy attaching a colorful new grip to it.
Then he turned to everyone and saluted. I had never seen a man salute the way he did. It was a powerful salute, a salute to freedom, a salute to the brave men in front of him and to the call of duty that all of us had followed to this forsaken beach.
We all cheered and saluted him back, but none seemed to get it right quite the same way he did.
Two days later I found his shiny grip lying in a puddle in the middle of a muddy French road. I felt compelled to pick it up and keep it but it seemed to be out of reach to me. I just couldn't pick it up. So I left it there. But I'll never forget that one moment in time when I saw him pull that thing out of that magic crate."
- From the Memoirs of John A.C. Tivision, WW2 Veteran
