The Journal of Scott Pendleton Collins

June 7, 1944

I could see Omaha Beach through the smoke and haze as our assault boat rocked in the choppy waters. The noise was unbelievable—shells hissing overhead, great booms along the shore as the navy pounded the Nazi positions. . . . A boat up ahead had been hit. Everywhere there were guys in the water. Some were splashing their way toward shore as the bullets kicked up the water around them. Others were already dead, their bodies floating against the steel obstacles. As we stopped abruptly on a sandbar, our boat's ramp dropped. I could hear fire from the automatics slamming into its steel sides.

"Okay, this is it! Everybody out! Let's go. Let's go?"