The Manhunt

I wrote this as part of my GCSE coursework for English last year and recently found it on a memory stick. I liked it, so I edited it a little and here it is! It is in different perspectives and depicts the Omaha Beach landings in WWII. Try to imagine the beginning scene of Saving Private Ryan, which we were actually shown and told to describe for our coursework. Enjoy.

Salty waves cascade into the boat. Vomit swishes around on the floor, running back and forth over my soaked boots. Chugging engines, distant bomb explosions and the violent splashing of the waves mixes together to create a roar of deafening pandemonium. Pressing my chapped lips to the metal of the cross, like a mother kissing her child, I move to evade an oncoming spurt of vomit from Private Melic. Hell would be a luxury. The violent smell of my fellow soldiers sweat and fear gropes my nostrils. We clonk together like milk bottles as the boat is battered by the waves.

“Thirty seconds!”

Time stops along with my heart. No two words have ever sounded so terrifying. The wait is over, my time has come. The metal ramp in front of me lowers with a slow groan, splashing into the shallow water of the shore. Blood already swirled in finger-like tendrils through the water, as if it were pointing at me, like I’m next.

“Go, go, go!” commands the Sergeant. Ears pounding, I am the first to enter the threshold of death.

                                                                             *

The ramps descend to reveal the enemy. Frantically, I spray the enemy with bullets. But were they really my enemy? Soldiers fall in a tidal wave of blood and anguish. It seemed so unfair that I was up here and they were down there, being ruthlessly slaughtered like pigs in a pen. I wish I could stop this violence and clean the innocent blood from my hands. 

A shot of metal whirls so close to my head the wind of it ruffles my hair; it smashes against the brick wall, causing the stone to shatter and the chips to fall. For a moment, I wished that that bullet had hit me. It would mean no more soul destroying murder. However, I think again because heaven would never accept me, no, purgatory will be my next home.

                                                                            *

Falling down, down on the sandy ground, I feel the bite of bullets. One in my shoulder and the other has agonizingly landed in my left side. Buried deep, it coaxes blood from my body. Crimson spills onto the sand at an unforgiving pace. Screams of agony emanate from a young man close to my bleeding body. Both his legs marred from his body, he calls out for “Molly”, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. He is beyond help, his mind far gone along with his legs. 

Hand gripping the wound on my side, I wander how long it will take for me to die. I wonder if maybe, by some miracle, I am saved. Something comes whistling in my direction. Sand flies. Air clashes with my face as I’m thrown to oblivion. Bones break on landing, bringing death closer. I cannot think, the pain overwhelms my senses, white noise blocking out the explosions and the cries of the dying. I beg for death to take me. Please. Please let me die now.

                                                                            *

Adrenaline pulses through my veins. This is my moment, to fight, to die, and to inspire. War is my comfort, gun my teddy bear. Men topple around me, screaming and crying. I have to jump over man after man, all of them dead or dying. Blood easily overcomes the water, staining the sand red. I push up the beach, shooting at the animals above as they try to shoot me. 

Ping! A bullet ricochets off my tin helmet. I reach up to feel the dent in my helmet. Ha! Not yet, death will have to wait a little longer to meet me. However my luck quickly dissipates when a mine blows me to Kingdom come. After what seems like hours falling through the air as if it were water, I land with a hard thunk. 

Moments pass in a blur, the screams now replaced with loud thumping. As I regain some sense, I realise the cold, wet sand had invaded my mouth. Spitting and spluttering, blood dribbled from between my teeth as I spat out the diseased sand. The sickening smell of burning flesh wanders into my nose. I try to block that out. With all the will I have left, I roll over so my face isn’t buried in the sand. This brings unimaginable pain. In a daze, I lift my heavy head, intrigued to see what my fate has become. 

Fear rips through me as my eyes set on the blood-covered chunk of metal that protrudes from my stomach and my right leg, which no longer exists. Convulsions of pain take over, searing, blindingly horrific. What an uninspiring death; a painful one too. My own blood chokes me, turning against me as it fills my throat; warm and metallic. Death is close, death is near, and I hold my hand out to greet him like an old friend.    

- Scribble