LST-344

As the heavily laden ship was tossed about in the storm whipped channel, Jack wondered how he had gotten there in the first place. Each invasion brought with it new horrors, and as the low slow target motored in the flotilla, the soldiers on the lower deck wretched. The deck, scrubbed clean day after day hidden away behind Slapton Sands, was now awash with vomit. Remnants of a last good meal mixed with bibles, bullets, and countless boots that if they could, would have longed for the sand of Normandy. None of them wanted was was coming.

The atlantic wall defenses, constructed of steel and concrete over the past four years, were home to the start of unspeakable terror.