Found in the attic of his home,
William Jackson, a now deceased World War II Veteran wrote down his experience at Omaha Beach on D-Day. He never spoke of his experience to his wife, or sons, or anyone in his family. They did not even know of it until this document was discovered. They did not even know he had a brother, or that he fought on the front line of the western front of World War II.

The day was June 6, 1944 when General Dwight Eisenhower launched Operation Overlord, the mission that would forever change my life. My name is William Jackson, but my friends and family call me Jack. I was in the 1st Infantry Division, part of the first unit, from Virginia. My brother and I joined the army when I was just seventeen, and he nineteen, looking for an adventure, but more importantly, an excuse to get out of our parent's house, and away from our small hometown for a while. My brother enlisted in the airforce, and I enlisted in the marines. Little did I know that when I enlisted in 1942, and left for boot camp, I was about to set foot into an adventure that would change my thoughts on man kind and scar my mind forever. I can still see images of fallen comrades, some missing limbs, others vomiting blood, all of them screaming in agony, vividly at age 85.
From spring of 1942 until early summer of 1944, the Germans had complete control over the French county of Normandy. They had set up an "Atlantic wall" to block the allies from gaining any ground on the French coast. The Germans, under the command of Field Marshal Karl Gerd von Rundstedt, had set up barbed wire fences, blockades, fortresses, trenches, and mine fields across an uncountable number of miles on the French coastline. Their mission was to gain control of all of France, and make it a Nazi nation, just like Poland and other Czech countries. In 1943, Hitler wanted to gain even more ground, so he appointed the military tyrant, Erwin Rommel, to take charge of Normandy. Of course, Rommel being a Jew-hating, control freak, paranoid Nazi, he did not feel that the blockades across the coast were adequate. He forced the Germans to reinforce them even more, until the blockades were presumably impenetrable. However, Rommel forgot what an excellent fighting force we Americans were, and still are. General Eisenhower gathered us, some 150,000 troops, a compilation of American, British, Polish, Canadian, and French troops to storm beaches all across the coast. My division was sent to Omaha Beach, along with nine companies of U.S. army rangers, and the 29th Infantry Division. For a week we prepared to storm the beach. (Source 2)
We disembarked in a LCVP U-boat raft (Source 5), from the side of the USS Samuel Chase. The ride from the English Channel onto the beach was indescribable. Never in my life have I felt so much overwhelming fear for my comrades and myself. As the waves threw us around the small raft, I began to wonder if I would ever see my family again. My throat was dry as I looked out over the rocky coast in front of me. Behind the beach, I saw several German fortresses, and a myriad of German men, ready to blow my body to pieces. My hands shook and tears ran down my face. I clamped my semi-automatic rifle, with an M1 0.3-inch caliber (5) in my hands until my knuckles turned white. This gun was nothing compared to the German MG 34 Automatic Machine guns (5) that were waiting for us on the other side of the barricades, but it was my protector. This gun had saved me from death when I was just a centimeter away from it many times.
I looked down at my gun and caught sight of my dangling dog tags. They were dangling like a small tombstone, taunting me, ready to be sent home to my family with a folded American flag and my dead body. I grabbed them and read the text engraved on them for the hundredth:
1st Rank Private William E. Jackson,
B. 20th October, 1925
Jamestown, VA
1st Infantry, Front line

I dropped the dog tag and glanced all around at my friends, my fellow soldiers. A lump in my throat started to rise. They were my brothers, the men I was living with since I was seventeen, they were all around my age or older. (1) My buddy Mike, whom I was closer to than anyone I've ever met, stared at me, his eyes sparkling, his face etched with lines of a forced calmness and anticipation of what was yet to come. We nodded at each other with the understanding that at least one of us might not make it up the beach. Mike smiled at me, and clapped a dirty hand on my back. "You'll be alrigh', Jack. You know you will, buddy. We'll just get on that beach and run, and kill some filthy Nazi pigs on the way, just for fun, just like we always do," he said in a thick Alabama accent.
Mike was always there for me, he always reassured me and made me feel better in the worst times. He saved my life a few times, just as I saved his. He was a funny guy, always had something to say that could make my whole unit crack up. Even in the toughest of situations, he stayed strong. I could hear him praying, grabbing and pulling nervously on his rosary beads as he did. Mike was the sniper in our unit, and a damn good one, too. He took out any enemies, anywhere, just point out the bugger and he got 'em. I stared at him, while he prayed, in adoration. How could a nineteen year old kid, who has seen his friends die, been shot at, and almost blown up on the front line still pray to his God and remain so positive? He simply amazed me.
Mike was not the only man on my raft I was fond of. There was Captain Arnold Baker, who was my direct superior. He was 53 years old, and having been through combat before, in the first Great War, he knew what he was doing. Captain always briefed us in a blunt but completely honest nature. He would give us the simple explanation of what we were supposed to do, and he would make sure we did it. Captain was the father of our group, having been a schoolteacher at home, a husband, and a father of three, he was great at it. Just then, I heard him yell, "Ok men! This is what you are going to do! Get your skinny asses off this boat, hop onto the shore, scale those cliffs, take them and hold them -- all while you're raked by German artillery and machine gun fire! (1) It seems impossible, but this is what old Dwight (4) here wants us to do! More men will reinforce us this afternoon, some 75,000 more, actually! They are sending another 5,000 boats later, but for now, these 5,000 will have to do. General Eisenhower is sending 30,000 vehicles to attack the boche from land! With them we should be able to make a huge dent in the German forces!" (2)
The other ten men, including me nodded with understanding. We were but a mile from the coast now, we would hit the shore in a matter of minutes. My stomach started to ache with nerves. My adrenaline started to kick in, and my head began to rush with blood. I could hear my heart beating, a rhythmic bump in my chest. I heard our medic, Technician 4th Grade (3) Alexander Smith, who we called Alex, begin to weep. He was twenty years old, a bit of a mama's boy, but a strong force and excellent medic when he was fighting to keep a wounded man alive. He was drafted into the war, I could tell Alex really didn't want to be there, but he was, and we had to make the best of all our situations.