The Very Longest Day...

 

 

"These are the times which try men's souls..."

"My name is Jonathon Kenneth Ashbury, and I will not be afraid. My name is Jonathon Kenneth Ashbury and I will not be afraid!" JK kept saying it over and over in his head. He wanted the cold empty fear to go away, but it would not. In two months he was going to be twenty years old - he was way too young to die. All night long he heard the pounding of artillery on Omaha Beach. He knew the sounds that kept him awake would soon become much louder to him as well as his fellow soldiers.

JK had been in the army for almost a year now. Much of it had been in training. He grew up in Bloise, Idaho and did fine in high school. Not a brain, but he was very popular because of his sense of humor. Always cracking a joke, many of the kids called him "just kidding" for the JK. That was fine with him as he never really liked his name - preferred the initials alone. Even his parents called him JK after a while.

Mom and dad were not crazy about JK going in the service. However, they knew how important it was. This war seemed like it was going to redefine everything. Even though most of the folks in Idaho thought the Allies would win, that one sinking feeling always popped up - what if we lost. Would we have to speak German or Japanese for the rest of our lives? Would we be put in concentration camps? Would we be killed? No, this war was of the utmost importance. Young men would go fight, and some would not come home.

It was late May in 1944 and the rumor mill was buzzing. Even though no orders had been given, everyone knew what was coming - the Allies were going to take back Europe. It was going to be some kind of a big deal. Nobody seemed to understand how a force, even one as strong as the Allies had, could penetrate the fortress know known as France. Word had come back from spies and recon flights that the beaches were nothing but a maze of pillboxes, mines and barbed wire. It would be like breaking into Alcatraz Island.

By early June, JK was on a troop carrier. It was part of an armada of ships that seemed to go on forever. On the evening of June 5th, the order was given - tomorrow morning shortly after sunrise, the Allies were going to storm the beaches of Normandy. The beach they would be landing on was nicknamed "Omaha". All night, the big guns and Allied planes tried to soften up the beachhead. By now, the Germans had figured out the plan and had as many troops as possible heading towards Normandy to fortify the beachhead.

In the early morning of June 6th, the order was given to board the landing craft. It was surreal. Sitting as low as possible in the craft, the sound of artillery was deafening. JK could not see anything but sky - all he could do was cover his ears and try not to puke from fear and sea sickness.

The seas exploded around the craft as the Nazis tried to "zero in" their artillery. JK thought it might be merciful to have it end this way - he would never feel a thing and then it would be over. He thought of his folks, his dog, his high school girl friend. He would never see them again. Is this the way life was suppose to be? Am I going to die in the cold salt water on a beach in Europe nobody had ever heard of? All of a sudden he could hear the "ping, ping, ping" on the landing door of the craft. They were now close enough to be in machine gun range. The First Lieutenant, who was kneeling in the front of the boat shouted to the boat - "Okay men! Get ready! When the door opens, get to the beach as fast as you can. Keep your head down, and when you get to the beach, take cover where you can. We will advance as ordered!" Then, as if in slow motion, the front gate of the landing craft opened and all of hell and fury of the war met them head on.

JK was wounded in the landing, but recovered to fight again. The landing on June 6th, the day which history has named "D-Day", turned the tide. For the rest of the war, the Allies were fighting on the doorstep of Germany while the Russians tied them up in the rear. On that early June day, thousands of brave young men died on Omaha Beach. Thousands more were wounded. However, the numbers, and the resolve of the Allies proved too much for the Germans. Normandy fell, and was never again a stronghold for the Nazis.

Every June 6th, we think about soldiers named JK, Joe, Willie or George. We think about fighting in a hell that most of us could never imagine. We think about the thousands of young men who gave us the gift more precious than gold - freedom. We can never repay that gift except by remembering one thing - freedom is not free. Sometimes it must be paid for by the lives of young men, and young women, who have so, so much to live for.