D-Day from a first-hand account

On his 21st birthday, he found himself in England. It was a long way from his home in the 31st Street block in Detroit.

He had been drafted into the army and was trained as a radio operator -- a very important job for a soldier during the war.

The U.S.S Shawnee transported him to England, where he continued to train and raise hell in a few English pubs.

On June 6th, 1944, a troop transport stopped in just less than 6 feet of water off the coast of Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. At 9:00AM the call to disembark the transport came down. He left the transport and headed into the cold water off the French coast.

As he waded toward the shore, big guns went off everywhere. Machine gun fire too. As he looked down, the water was red with the blood of bodies that had fallen before they ever reached he shore.

He could see the cliffs beyond the beach. These cliffs were being blasted apart in order to get a toehold on the beach and provide a spot to get to the top. The German army fired at will.

On the beach, gunfire was everywhere. Hiding behind the bodies of fallen comrades was a common sight for hours.

Incredibly, the U.S. Army was able to push the German Army back and get up the cliffs of Normandy.

He had survived the Beach.

A few days later, a fellow soldier was cleaning a Thompson sub-machine gun with a soiled rag that led to oil-covered hands as the weapon was being cleaned. The fellow soldier dropped the gun. It went off. A bullet went through his canteen and came out the other side. He was lucky. However, that fellow soldier lost four teeth while it took another four soldiers to pull him off the careless fool.

The Battle of the Bulge followed. German tanks everywhere. Another victory.

While in the German countryside, he and his comrades discussed how tired they were of C-rations. They moved a German couple off their farm for a few hours, telling them they were looking for hiding paratroopers. Really, all they wanted was a piglet from the farm. They roasted that piglet on a homemade spit for hours. He said it tasted incredible.

Later, he moved forward into Germany and the chance meeting with a Polish fellow named Kosinski who had relatives back in Detroit. It was a good thing he spoke fluent Polish, learned from his immigrant parents, so that he could understand Mr. Kosinski. He sent letters back to Detroit for the man.

There are many more stories. His family has heard them countless times and sometimes they just shake their head. However, these stories are priceless heirlooms of American History.

Soldier...Thank you for your contributions to the cause of American freedom during World War II.

Thank you for surviving that beach 61 years ago.

Thank you Frank Kendra.

--Your son in law, Darren