|Robert Capa, photographer, Normandy Beach , June 6, 1944|
While we travelled the 12 miles to the shore line, the dawn came up... Everyone soon was experiencing the pangs of seasickness, wanting to get off that pitching and rolling boat no matter what might come next. You couldn't stick your head over the side, so everyone was vomiting in the boat. I positioned myself right at the front as I believed it was essential that the members of the command be first on the beach...
In our craft we could feel the bottom scrub some sand and jar to a grounded halt. Obviously the boat had struck a sand bar. I plunged forward, jumped into the dark water, feet first, and was surprised to find I was in eight-foot deep water. My lifebelt brought me back to the surface, already swimming. Soon my feet touched bottom and I was able to begin splashing and running out of the water. Winded, I paused to kneel in the shelter of a steel hedgehog, then lunged ahead and dove into a depression filled with water. Suddenly, my ankle felt as if hit by a baseball bat. I was afraid to stand up for fear of being shot and I was afraid to stay where I was for fear I'd be drowned. Eventually I decided I had to move, and I'd try running and if I could run OK then my leg must not be broken. I hobbled the remaining 50 yards to the shoreline and lay down against the stony rubble. .. There was no one in front of me, beside me, nor behind me that I could see or hear."
|Being interviewed, Normandy, June 6, 1994|
Pops, we miss you.