Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Horror Beyond Any Dream A Short Story of the Batttle of Omaha Beach

                                                                      A note from the Author


 This story is only a short story, and is not intended to be fully historically accurate. However, it may reflect the mood of this epic strugle and spark an interest into my reader to read my book, The Killer Fighters, which tells far more of the battle of Normandy than this short story does. Every important person in this story that has a point of view is fictional.


                                                                      A Note From the Editor:


Hello, I am Philip Anderson. I have written books for a very long time. I was never very much into Historical Fiction until I met Joshua. I have recently started writing a book entitled, The Battle For the Universe , along with him. I don't have a blog or website of my own, but in return for my helping Josh write, he has given me a voice of my through his blog. If you ever visit Omaha Beach as I have, you should recognize that this is not just another historical sight, but is well preserved. It touches me so much that every year for me and my wife, Fannie's anniversary, we come and visit it, and we show are love for one another by studying the historical facts of the battlefield.What most people do not understand is that the battle of Normandy was not just on Omaha Beach, but on four other beaches, and took places in many other places, as well.Of course, Josh is the historian and historical writer, not me. This short story is well written, but Joshua has done far greater in The Killer Fighters. He is the author of this, and I'll let him tell this story as he wishes, for there is almost nothing I have to change in this work.




                                                            A Note From the Publisher


 Hello, I am John Ransom.  I now work for Crusader Kingdom, L.T.D. and I have published numerous articles by Wilfred Langton on Modern Wars. One particular part in Modern Wars that stuck out in my mind was World War II.

When I was a boy, I would line up what I called ''army men'' with my older brother, Mike,while my younger sisters would play dolls with one another and pretend their husbands were off in war, and so had to take care of their children. My brother and I would often tease our sisters, Sibylla and Martha, and tell them that their husbands had been found missing in action. That December of 1950, when I was eight, my nine-year- old brother died of pneumonia, and that great sadness has affected me ever since.What's neat about Josh's blog is that all that are part of it have been rejected by many, but we have the chance to reach out to someone else who, like me, has no friends on earth except my own family, and those who are part of this blog. I feel like many of us here are from all over, and such is a good way for those who are part of the last alliance to have communion with one another. But anyway, the story here is very well written, thanks to Philip Anderson.




                                                            A Note From the Printer


 Hi, I'm Marry Ewell. I work for World books, and am a professor at Hospitaller University and the Samari Award winning author of twenty-five books. I am also the author of four short stories. I write about karate and Mongels since I have been amazed with them and almost all Eastern Culture since childhood. Not only have I won the Samari Award, but also the Earth Day Award, the States of  Family Award, The Children's Pick Award, The National Holiday of Japan Award, The Fortune of China Award,The Chonging Sentnal Accomplishment, The United Kingdom Peace Award, and, most importantly,The Apple of Stinking Creek Winner. I was hoping Josh was going to write a book about the Mongels, but to my disappointment, he wrote about the crusades. His stories weren't exactly like my books,and my mouth dropped as I read them. I'm now bigger into the crusades than any history in China or Japan, thanks to him. I didn't read this story before, but went ahead and printed it, because I knew if the king of the war novel wrote it, it had to be good.




                                               Horror Beyond Any Dream: by Joshua



                                                   Around Omaha Beach, June 6,1994


 The men swallowed. A number of 43,250 American infantry soldiers were to participate in the battle of Omaha Beach.They began to look around, they could see seagulls flying, the water whispering in their ears, the dead crying for their voices to be heard.Their faces were sweating, their voices began to crack and give.

Sergeant James Ridgeway stood with his men as the transport moved. He held tightly onto a picture of Jane Garnet and himself just before he went off to war.
 
Private Frank Burnside pulled out some cards, and was playing with Private Elmo Washington.They stared at one another as Frank pulled up a card from his sleeve and they made their last laughs.

Private First Class Billy Gamble read Psalm 23 out of his Bible, and prayed that his Mama wouldn't die of sorrow over him in case he never returned. He could now see the beach in close distance with sloping ground. He had never seen anything like it.

Journalist Lewis Prawer pushed back his gray hair. As he saw the beach at close distance, he pulled out his pen from his sleeve. He took hold of a piece of paper and began to write. He hadn't written in days, for he could hardly find anything to write on.When he did not get a chace to write, he often found that it was hard for him to get to sleep.

''What are you writing about, Louie?''said Dr.George Pender.

''I'm sorry,'' said Lieutenant William Early,''but tell us what you are writing about, Lewis.''

''About what we'redoing,''said Prawer.

''Read it to us.''said Early.

''I'm sorry,''said Prawer.''But I'm afraid that I can't tell you until I'm done writing it. Now, I'm writing about you all.'' He saw that they were now indeed paying attention to him, and he smiled. ''However, to those of you who survive, I shall read it to you after we storm the beach.''

Colonel Robert Jones said,''This place is so misty that I can't see a thing.This is the slowest drive I've ever seen.''

''I've seen slower than this.'' said Private Johnny Meade.

''Where you from?'' asked Colonel Jones.

''Down South,''said Meade, "why, I'm from Alabama.''

''Really?''said Early. ''I've never been there.''

Prawer glanced away as he spotted a beach that looked flat at first, but as he continued looking it indeed looked like terrible,wet,sloping ground.

''Here comes the landings, men,'' said Jones.

The ships and transports now stopped as the men departed from them and entered the water.Private Billy Gamble carried his gun swiftly and moved through the waves dramatically like an angel fighting to earn his wings. His baggage felt heavy on him, and his boots felt wet. He could now see the Germans in close distance, lined up on the beach. They formed like evil dogs after innocent pray.''Lord Christ,'' he thought, "help us today.''

The mist increased, and some men slipped into the water.One man, Sergeant Reynald Clark, with flaming green eyes, made the first step onto the beach with stunning motion.

Gamble and the rest of the regiment were now on the beach. A first wave of guns and artillery came showering upon them from the enemy. Gamble saw Sergeant James Ridgeway lose his face from a German machine gun. He turned his head as he saw Ridgeway's picture of Jane Garnet on the ground. He looked at Ridgeway and his picture, but, as he did, a bullet came streaming into his neck, bringing him to the ground. He had yelled when the bullet hit him, and put his hand on his neck, but it stinged as he did it. There were dead corpses in front of him, and he stacked them up so that he would not be shot again. Bullets were whistling over his head, shooting other men that had been in back of him in the line of battle. He saw a U.S.tank roll over dead body pieces and hurl fire into German troops from above. He fainted from his pain. The Battle for Omaha Beach was not over.

                                                                    Afterword



Soon the U.S. troops break through the German lines at Omaha Beach, but the battle for Normandy does not end until August 25,1994.

 Do you think this storytelling is excellent work for describing the Battle of Omaha Beach?

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Sneak Peak to Kings and Crusaders

                               Somewhere between the rivers of  Al-Mafjir and Al-Qasab
                                                      Monday September 2,1191



 The crusader army awakened, and was ready to move. Horses were sent by stable-boys to their masters and, squires put on each knight their armor and chainmail.

Richard placed over his head a silver helmet that covered his entire head, and had one of his knights place upon it his golden crown. He thought of Berengaria, and wanted to hold her face. He departed from his tent, and leaped upon his white steed as he took control over the reigns of his horse.The loud sound of metal clinking and clattering could be heard from far off. Straw and water was being given to the horses, and weapons to soldiers.

Robert de Sable rode up to King Richard , ''Sire,'' he said, ''my men are ready.''

Hugh of Burgendy rode up, ''The French are ready.'' he said.

 ''Good,'' said Richard.

''It looks like a hot day.'' Robert de Sable observed.

''Indeed,'' agreed Richard,''but God will protect us.''
 
Garnier de Nablus rode up with King Guy de Lusignan, Geoffrey de Lusignan,and Earl Robert of Leicester.

 ''Let's move,'' commanded Garnier.

Richard ordered the army to move again, and so it did.The army began marching in quick motion with the blazing sun in their faces.Their mouths felt dry, and sweat streamed down their faces. It reminded King Guy of Hattin, and gave him fear.

Richard knew that Saladin's army was not the only danger; so was the ferocious heat. He rubbed his steed's neck and stood up straight. He looked back at the long line of men behind him marching, and looked forward towards the miles of land that they still had to go through. His sword was in his scabbard, his shield was tied to his back, and, as his left hand held onto the reigns of his horse, a hatchet was in his right hand.

''This has been a long march, and we are still going.'' he thought. The golden lion on the uniform of his chest made him stand out from the rest of the army. He saw Sir Peter de Preaux ride up with the colors toward the front of the line, just a few yards back from him. Richard saw dry ground in front of him, where there was dust---almost nothing living---and tough rocks. He felt thirsty, and licked his mouth. He opened one of his bags on his horse and took out a glass of water, drank it whole, and then put it away. He pulled the reigns of his horse and made it halt.

''Are you alright, sire?'' asked Garnier de Nablus as he took off his helmet and pushed the chainmail on his head back.

 ''Yes,'' said Richard. He looked up into the sky as a cloud above him dissolved and more sunlight came down.''Let us keep moving,'' he said. He slightly spurred his horse on to keep going, but not to run off from the rest of his army.The ground seemed to become more dry as his army continued marching. He thought of England, could see the green valleys, the open fields, the wetlands, but they all quickly vanished from his mind, and there was no coolness or whispering of the air,but only deadly heat and the loud sound of marching.

There was a large hill in front of him full full of sharp rocks and dead pieces of land. He had the horse move up hill until it reached the very top. In front of him seemed to be more wasteland, and nowhere to cleanse the thirst of his crusader army. Garnier was behind him and riding up the hill.

''Sire,'' said Garnier, ''King Richard, sire.We have not yet reached the Wadi Al-Qasab river.Until then we must keep up the good march.''

Richard nodded.''Yes,'' he thought. "There is still a river not far away. God just wants us to have faith in Him. The river cannot be far.'' He looked at Garnier in the face.''You're right,'' he said, ''We must keep marching.'' He looked forward and thought, ''We are here to re-capture the holy city of Jerusalem, and to save Christians.'' He rode forward as Garnier did the same, and the rest of the army came up hill.The hill presently sloped down and Richard realized that his army was in a small valley with mountains and hills on both sides.On both sides of the army the place was partly wooded.The hills around them were sloping and piled up with rocks.In front of his own eyes he saw pieces and what remained of a dead family laying across the ground.He got off his horse and walked down to one of the dead men whose fist was clenched and full of blood.

''What are you looking at?'' said Garnier.

Richard opened up the dead man's fist and touched the cross that was in the man's hand. He looked closely at the man.''Be at peace,'' he said. He saw a few saracen arrows across the ground and at the centerpiece, a merchant bag with no merchandise in it left. He got back onto his steed.''They were Christian merchants,'' he said.''They were killed by Saladin's army.'' He saw a small girl, lying flatly across the ground as she still had a doll held tight in her hands. He swelled with anger inside.'' This is Saladin's doing,'' he thought.

 ''What do you think these Christian merchants were doing here?'' asked Garnier.

Richard no longer looked at the Christian merchants,could not bear to look at them, could not bear to think of them.''It does not matter, Garnier,'' he said.''We must keep going.We must hold tight formation.''He spurred the horse, and the army began marching once again.

''This is terrible ground.'' said Garnier. He looked on, saw a stag eating small pieces of grass just a few hundred yards away, and then run out of sight. He turned his face to the left as a group of fleas attached onto his left arm. He smacked them all off, but they came back and his body began to itch. He took hold of a glass of water from one of his bags and threw out the water at the fleas, killing them.

Richard looked back at the crusader army as he halted his steed. He said, ''Keep up the good steady pace, men.'' He felt a hard push. He looked on his shield, saw a saracen arrow. As he looked up in panic he saw saracen archers come out and shoot arrows at his own men. He saw his crossbowmen form lines and release their bolts into the faces of the saracens.''They are tyring to break us!'' he yelled.''We must stay together!      

Hold formation!''

 Muslim horse-archers came out with curved swords and attacked the crusader columns as Muslim swordsman followed.

Robert de Sable lifted up his sword.''Hold Templars!'' he yelled.''Hold!''

 The lines were holding against the small waves of the enemy. Two saracen horse-archers were on both sides of Garnier. One was killed by him, but the other one knocked him to the ground.Garnier panicked and reached for his sword, which had also fallen.He saw a bolt of a crossbowman fly into the back head of the horse-archer behind him.

Sir Peter de Preaux stuck down the colors in a small clump of dirt.With his sword, he was fighting in hand to hand combat with a Muslim amir whose name he knew was Ayaz al-Tawil. The Muslim tried to stick his spear into Peter's side, but Peter blocked. However, the force of the spear pushed Peter off his horse and onto the ground. He saw his horse run off into the trees in fear.Ayaz al-Tawil was charging at Peter again, but Peter,with his sword, stabbed the stomach of the saracen and Ayaz al-Tawil fell mortally wounded. He took hold of the saracen's weapon as a souvenir. He saw that the small battle was now ending.The saracens began to retreat back into the hills and Peter looked up into the sky.

Garnier was back on his steed with his sword in his hand.

Richard rubbed the sweat off his face.He gave a smile, the best one he could make.''We won the fight,'' he said. He saw Peter de Preaux with no horse. Richard looked at a stable boy.''Give Sir Peter a new horse,'' he said.

The stable boy scratched his head.''Yes, sire,'' he said as he ran off to do as he was told.

Richard looked on and noticed a flowing river in front of him that he had not seen before.

 ''It is the Wadi Al-Qasab,'' said Garnier.''We reached the river.''

Peter lifted up the spear of Ayaz al-Tawil.''I killed a Muslim amir,'' he said.''the spear's name is Ayaz Estos which means "Ayaz's spear."

Garnier de Nablus stood up from the ground as he looked at his Hospitallers in shock and surprise that he was still alive.''Well done,'' he said.

Robert de Sable and his Templars cheered for their victory.''We succeeded,'' he said as he looked at the Wadi Al-Qasab river.''We reached our destination for today.''

''Let us set up camp near the river,'' said Richard,''and let us be careful of saracens nearby.''

The crusaders went with their horses toward the river and satisfied their thirst.  

~~~From Kings and Crusaders: Part Three, Chapter  XIV, "The Beginning Of the Long March Southwards"~~~~                    

Last English Class Done

  I recently finished my last English class, which covered Biblical literature. I also have completed two creative writing classes this seme...