Other stories about Company A:
(extracts from book S. Ambrose "D-Day")
Ship sign Joe Smith was a Navy Beachmaster. He was to place pavilions to guide the Cie A LCA of 116° Reg. His LCA was supposed to hit the beach first. "The Germans left us alone when we arrived. We didn't know why, we could see the Germans looking at us from above, it was a curious sensation. We were right in front of Casemate 88 in front of Vierville, but fortunately for us, he was installed to shoot laterally on the beach and not face, and they didn't see us."
The beachmaster Smith said: "They lowered the ramp, and one or two German machine guns opened fire, and the sand was thrown in front of the boat. Nobody moved. The pilot rose and cried, for one reason or another, the calm came for a moment and it was heard as clearly as a bell:
"Good God, get out! I've got more to get!"
A LCA carrying a section of Cie A arrived behind Smith. The men believed that, as they had been told, aerial and naval bombardments had destroyed any opposition. The ramps were lowered.
Master electrician Alfred Sears was in the last LCA of the first wave. The ship sign had told him "all German strengths will be destroyed when we approach".
Sears continues: "We were so sure that my men and I were on deck above the engine chamber during the crossing, taking advantage of the show, fascinated by the LCT rocket launcher dam fire. About a thousand rockets scattered the beach just where we were going. That was reassuring."
Sears remembers: "We hit a sand bank, lowered the ramp, and then hell spilled over to us. The soldiers received a hail of machine gunshots in the boat. The lieutenant of the army was killed in a row, with a bullet in his head."
Sergeant Thomas Valance survived. "When we went down the ramp, we were in the water on our knees and started to do as in training, to move forward, to lie down, to shoot. The problem is, we didn't know what to shoot. I saw tracers from a concrete location that seemed colossal to me. I didn't expect to see such a big one. I was shooting at it, but there was no point in attacking a concrete casemate with a 7mm,5 calibre rifle."
The tide was rising, and the men around Valance were being touched. He found it hard to get up, like the others, he was terribly overloaded, wet completely, exhausted, trying to drag himself into the sand and the water and avoid the mined obstacles. "I had to give up my equipment that kept me at the bottom."
"It soon became clear that we would not do much. I remember floating in the water, a hand in the air to keep a balance, when I was reached at the palm and then through the wrist."
"Soldier Henry Witt turned to me. I remember his words: "They're going to kill us here like rats. Exactly like rats."
Valance was hit again, on the left hip, the broken bone. He picked up two other minor injuries. His bag was hit twice, and the jugular of his helmet torn by a bullet. He crawled on the beach "and I was leaning down to the wall of the dike, losing some knowledge and, in fact, I spent the rest of the day in that position. My participation in the landing ended as for the rest of the company, swept away by German fire. The corpses of my friends were falling apart, and I was the only one living among so many dead friends, often shredded."
Private George Roach was assistant to the flamethrower. He weighed 60 kg, and carried 45 kg of equipment, including his M1 rifle, ammunition, hand grenades, a 20-litre can of gasoline for the flame thrower, a set of dismantling keys, and a bottle of nitrogen.
"We went down the ramp, there was a lot of loss. We didn't know where the shots came from, from the top of the cliff or from the holiday houses on the edge. I was letting myself fall on the sand and shooting at the houses. Sergeant Wilkes: "What are you shooting at?", and I said, "I don't know."
The only other survivor of the boat section Roach could see was Private Gil Murdoch. Both men were lying behind an obstacle. Murdoch had lost his glasses and didn't see anything. "You know how to swim?" asked Roach.
"No"
"Well, look, we can't stay here, let's get back in the water, and let's get carried by the tide."
They retreated behind a destroyed tank. Both were slightly injured. The tide caught up with them, and they clung to the chariot. Roach began swimming towards the shore; the owner of a LCVP picked him up halfway. "He hoisted me on board, about 10:30, and I quickly fell asleep."
Roach finally reached the slope, where he helped nurses. The next day he found the remains of his company. "I met General Cota, I talked to him a little bit. He asked me what company I was from. I told him and he shook his head. Company A was destroyed. When we found ourselves, we were 8 good for service."
(Cota asked Roach what he would do after the war. "One day I'll go to university, I'd like to go to Fordham." Five years, day to day after that, Roach graduated from Fordham. "Since then," he said in 1990, "there are no days when I have not thought of those who did not come back that day."
Warrant Officer Lee Polek's boat was about to sink down approaching the beach. Everyone was wearing their helmets. "We shouted to the crew to bring us in faster, preferring to fight rather than drown. As the ramp fell, we were hit by machine guns and rifles. I was screaming to be ready to swim and fight. We were getting shots straight into the boat. My three platoon leaders in front, and others, were hit. A few men climbed by the sides. Two sailors were hit. I went out in water with my ankles, tried to run, but I got water straight to my hips. I was hanging out behind a scrap metal block. Bullets ricocheted on them, others were touching others of my men. I climbed up the beach crawling behind the pebble slope and few of my men joined me. I was counting, 11 only stayed on the 30 of the boat. When the tide went up, we ran back and shot the wounded to safety. Some were hit again on the beach. No more group men, no more shell injuries. The men were helping each other."
"While we were agglutinated there, I told Jim Hickey that I would like to live up to 40 years, working 40 hours a week for 1 dollar an hour (when I was recruited, I was 37.5 cents an hour). I was sure I'd make it for 40 bucks a week."
"Jim Hickey calls me again on June 6 to ask me, "Hey, sergeant, are you still making 40 bucks a week?"
______________________________________
Excerpts "D-Day at dawn"
Cecil Breeden is a quiet young man from Iowa, a state in the central United States. He is one of the 3 nurses who set out to attack in the command ship of Company A of 116th Infantry. When these men landed in the worst area of Omaha that morning, one of the nurses fell immediately and the other was seriously wounded. Breeden will do his job alone all day long. Standing under the fire of machine guns and mortars, he goes from wounded to wounded without eyebrowing. When a hit GI tries to shoot him, Breeden gets out and answers: "For now you're the one who's got it. When I'm touched, you can take care of me." Cecil Breeden died in 1991, without having requested or received any official evidence of recognition. His comrades worked to have the Medal of Honor or the Distinguished Service Cross granted him, in vain. For the veterans of Company A, Cecil Breeden remains a true savior. For the historians of D-Day, he stands out among so many brave men as the incarnation of the spirit of the liberators. Many other heroes revealed themselves on the morning of June 6. Unfortunately, their history has not been written and their names will never be known.