Remembering the Ghost of You

June 6th, 1944

We stood on the shores waiting to load the boats. Every soldier stood still and grim. Heavy fog blanketed the dark waters of the English Channel. This was it. We’d already pushed the date back until now due to the weather. We were all armed and ready to cross. I held my gun with numb fingers as I tried to remember to breathe.
Ray, Bob, and Frank happened to be in my section, section A, of the first wave and had been placed to go in the same boat as me. I prayed they didn’t die. I couldn’t watch my friends die.
The metal boxes that were to carry us to France lowered their fronts and we began marching in. I was in the third boat.
“Gerard I can’t swim,” Ray blurted out behind me as we boarded.
“I won’t let you drown,” I said without hesitation. We were piled into the boat and I’d shut off all my feelings. I was calm and collected. My brain was shut off. Ray kept babbling about not being able to swim as the boat jerked to a start but I couldn’t hear him. I wasn’t going to let a medic die though. I hoped we didn’t need to swim. With all this gear we’d be sucked down into the depths of the cold water.

I don’t know how much time has passed. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve thrown up from seasickness and I’ve lost track of how many others were throwing up. The boat rocked and rolled over the choppy black water. By now I couldn’t even see many other boats. I felt as if we were all floating in this gray world. Bob sat behind me a few people back with a stone face. Ray was whispering prayers directly behind me. Frankie was to my right with his hands clasped around the cross around his neck. He held it to his lips in silent prayer. I’d run out of prayers to say. It was all fate now.
And then the captains started shouting. Our orders were the same, just push forward and don’t stop for anything. That order was shouted over and over again until the sound of fire arms drowned it out. The rocky beach swept into view out of the fog. The captains were shouting orders and something that sounded like our position was off, but I couldn’t hear them. I was too focused on the few boats that seemed to be stuck in the water; soldiers pouring out and getting shot down before they even reached the sand.
Our boat jolted to a stop with the sound of shrieking metal. A sandbar. We were stuck and then we were being told to move out. The front went down and freezing water spilled in as we ran out. Without thinking I grabbed the front of Ray’s jacket and dragged him after me. My brain shut off and things happened in flashes.
Adrenaline filled my veins.
The water was freezing but I pressed forward with Ray.
People were going down all around me.
My ears were ringing.
The water was getting deeper.
My numb fingers threatened to let go of Ray.
We were almost to the sand.
So close.
As the water grew shallow I moved faster.
The water was already turning red.
As we pulled free of the waters’ clutches I let go of Ray and ran forward.
Sand was exploding all around me.
Screams of injured mixed with gun shots.
I ran forward.
I ducked behind a mound of sand with Wallace and Victor.
My brain was having a hard time processing what was going on.
The water and sand were covered in bodies.
I was prepared for death.

Time slowed down as we inched forward. We didn’t know where the captains were or when the second wave would come. We were just a bunch of soldiers firing meaninglessly at the sturdy Nazi bunkers on the cliffs.
By now I couldn’t hear anything but a high pitched ringing noise. All the screaming and bombs had rendered my ears useless. I sank down into the sand. There was no covered between us and the cliffs beyond where I sat with the others. We still had a good twenty feet to move. Soldiers who tried to move beyond this point were obliterated. This entire mission seemed to be a suicide mission. Countless dead had turned the sand and water red.
I looked at the soldiers pushing forward from behind us. I don’t know where they kept coming from. They ran forward and ducked behind mounds of sand or were shot down. Medic’s ran from body to body but from here their efforts seemed pointless. People were going down too fast.
My blood froze and my breathing stopped before my brain had a chance to comprehend what I was seeing. It was no mistake though.
“MIKEY!” I roared but unable to hear my own voice. He was running forward. “MIKEY!” I screamed again. He didn’t hear me though and then he was down. My ears were ringing and my brain was struggling to process the look of agony on his screaming face. “MIKEY!” I screamed again now feeling the ache in my throat. I tried to scramble forward to get to him, but they were holding me back. “MIKEY!” I continued to scream. I struggled harder as I watched the sand turn crimson. A medic got to him and I watched him press bandages to Mikey’s chest. If I could just get to him I knew things would be better.
His face was twisted in pain as the medic worked. He was writhing as blood poured out of him. My vocal chords felt strained but I kept screaming his name.
And then everything around me went silent. Mikey stopped moving; lifeless eyes staring into the distance. The medic rocked back on his heels and moved to another injured soldier.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
My vision was blurry.
Mikey continued not to move as the last of his blood trickled out of the gaping hole in his chest.
I wanted to wake up from the nightmare.
I wanted to believe it wasn’t him.
The others were shaking me.
Trying to snap me out of my shock.
It was useless.
“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL ME!” I roared into the silence.
I lunged forward, free of the grasp of soldiers.
I grabbed the sleeve of his stained coat and pulled him behind the sand.
I couldn’t even cry.
I was just rocking back and forth.
With shaking hands I shut his eyes.
He was already turning cold.
I laid down next to him clutching his cold hand.
“Mikey,” I croaked. Sounds were filtering back into my ears but I couldn’t make out what they were. Hands shook me but I refused to move. “Mikey,” I whispered again. In the back of my mind my song rang eerily.
“At the end of the world or, the last thing I see, you are never coming home. Never coming home.”
I shut my eyes trying to destroy the reality around me.

“Gerard!” someone snapped.
“No,” I whispered.
“Gerard we have the bunker. We’ve got to go,” I recognized Bob speaking to me.
“I’m not leaving Mikey,” I whispered.
“He’s gone Gerard.”
“No.”
“We can bury him on top of the cliffs. I got permission.”
“No.”
GERARD!” he bellowed at me and I finally looked at him. “Mikey is gone. We have to go. He wouldn’t want you lying with his corpse.”
I was at a loss of words as I sat up and looked at Mikey. He looked like he was sleeping. The coldness of his skin and the wound in his chest told me otherwise. With trembling hands I took his glasses off. I placed them in my bag and then checked his pockets. They were empty. I took his bag and then stood.
I trudged through the bloodied sand towards the cliffs. Bob picked up Mikey and followed me.

Bob dug the hole while I sat clutching Mikey’s glasses in my hands. Waves crashed against sand and rocks. The black water was still red. Bodies littered the red sand and shallow waters. I couldn’t look at them. My eyes were glued on Mikey. Bob placed the body in the ground and started filling the hole.
“Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.” Bob recited as he finished burying Mikey.
“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust,” Frank echoed from behind me. I hadn’t known he was out here. Frankie placed a crudely made wooden cross bearing the name Michael J Way carved into it. Bob placed Mikey’s helmet on top of it. I remained frozen in my spot as my friends lowered their heads in silent prayer.
“We don’t have long,” Bob finally said to me.
“I want to be alone,” I whispered. He nodded and backed off. Frankie remained but backed away from the grave and I went to stand in front of the cross.
“It was supposed to be me that died,” I said to the wind. It was beginning to rain. The clouds opened up and cold drops hit my skin and uniform. “It should have been me.” I dropped to my knees and placed my head in my hands. “Shoulda been me,” I muttered over and over again.
“Gerard,” Frank said and I felt his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got to go back.”
“I should have been me,” I told him and his bloodshot eyes looked sad but he said nothing. He pulled me to my feet.
“Come on Gerard,” he beckoned and I let him lead me away. I felt numb and it wasn’t from the cold. I just felt numb and lifeless. It should have been me.