This is an Alternate Universe Story.
Part of a series of short stories based on ‘nsync members as World War II soldiers. This isn't intended to be strictly accurate, although some information comes from resources about this topic. This is just fan fiction.
Omaha Beach, Normandy. June 6, 1944.
Private Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick “twenty-nine, from Clarion, Pennsylvania, made his way in the beach surrounded by steel crosses and wooden logs, with mines on top, made impossible for the boats to dock.
The German soldiers did not wasted any second, their machine guns and artillery wounded and killed thousand of Americans soldiers, as they got near the shore. The casualties increased more and more within each second.
As he moved forward, avoiding the mortal bullets that hit the ground or passed by him merely inches. He took cover behind one of the big steel crosses, the bullets hitting the metal, giving a small amount of protection for a couple of seconds.
So many thoughts raced trough his head, too many, so fast like a rain of machine gun. He tried to ignore it and get his duty done.
“Go!” The captain of the company shouted. “To the sea wall, quick!” he shouted once more, his voice was like a whisper that drowned on the loud noises of guns, explosions. All the men including Chris ran, getting away from the shore. Many were killed as others make their way to the sea wall.
It was a temporary protection for them; the cliff was above the sea wall, making impossible for the enemy to hit a target successfully. Chris saw how many of the soldiers remained at the shore, using the wooden logs and steel crosses as protection.
“Get away from there!” a private shouted from where Chris was. Staying as low as he possible could, he addressed his captain. The machine gun had ceased for a while.
“What do we do now, sir” was the first words he spoke after this whole pandemonium had started.
“We got to take over this side no matter what.” the captain replied pointing the designated area. “Bring the pipe bombs!” he shouted. Two men arrived with the gear to make a hole to the sea wall was wired and mined.
“Fire!” one of them shouted. All the men took cover, the bombs exploding making a hole to crawl.
“This is goddamned insane” said Private Joey Fatone “twenty-four-Brooklyn, New York, as he joined Chris.
“Hey! Thought you were dead by now,” he slightly joked.
“Not yet, Kirkpatrick” the younger man replied with a hint of smile.
His rifle was ready and so was he. “Ready! Go!” as soon as the order was given, Chris, Joey and a couple of soldiers crawled trough the hole making their way to the trenches. It was a difficult task cause of the land mines. The machine ceased for a brief second giving them opportunity to cross. As they ran, a grenade exploded, wounding a private, and killing another one instantly. His cries were loud enough. A German soldier shot him right in the head, quieting his cries.
Joey, Chris had crossed the camp with a few minor scratches. “Report” the captain asked. “Here!” Chris replied while Joey aimed his rifle, locking his target. He fired, sending the German soldier to the ground. Chris in the other hand fired at the remaining soldiers as they tried to aim the machine gun at them.
“Come here” Chris shouted to the American soldiers. Out of nowhere, the soldiers killed the enemy. That was it. The fire ceased. A nearby bunker was in sight. The German soldiers surrender to the inevitable. They were now, war prisoners.
Silence. ..All except for the waves of the sea tainted in red, lives lost. It was a really nerve breaking mission. After that, the scenario that stood before him. It was indescribable.
In his pocket, he pulled out a small photo. A photo, brought memories of his life before the war. Before, this whole nightmare had begun.
At the other end, Joey was slowly smoking a cigarette.
‘Sweet delight’ he thought. When he first entered the army, he did not smoke.
“You’ll end up smoking either way,” Chris had warned him the first day. He took a glance of Chris seated on the dirty ground, staring at a picture. He thought how this man’s face had changed. It had a ghostly appearance.
‘Please God, let me go home.’ He silently prayed. His eyes closed, still holding the image. With this, he broke down in tears. It did not matter if other men saw him cry. He had too. He let out all that.
A hand stroked his dark brown hair. It was Joey. He comforted his friend, he just stood there, and he did not pronounce a word. In these cases, there were no words to express how it felt.
© 2001-2001.
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