TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
The waves slammed the boat, rocking it back and fourth. Water seeped over the sides, soaking the men, as they huddled, crouching. Fear; wether or not not anyone felt it, didn't matter. They all knew their duty. As the sound of bullets and explosions got louder, any fear the men did have soon was replaced with rushing adrenaline. The dinging of the bullets on the side of the boat was real enough; this was no live ammo excercise.
In the front, the Sarge, leaned back, helping a fallen soldier. He shouted orders, but as a plain screamed across the sky, his voice was lost. In an instant, the boat slammed to a stop, and the door dropped. The second that happened, the bullets found their way through the mass of men, as they tried to escape this death trap. The lucky ones at the back of the boat used their friends bodies as shields against the onslaught. Yet somehow, someway, men found themselves on the beach. The beach led to a dense jungle, in which an unseen enemy continued to fire.
A Moroccan Marine, waving directing military traffic on the beach
Then, the most deafening sound of all began; naval bombardment. When straffing doesn't work, call in the big guns. It had its desired effect. The firing from the jungle stopped almost instantly. Wether it be out of fear, or a very lucky few hits, the soldiers took their time, pulling the dead from the beaches. Soon the tanks began rolling up, followed by more and more waves of soldiers. While this was no Normandy, to any man who experienced it, it was hell.
-Tales of a soldier; True Accounts on the Field of Battle- Moroccan best seller
In the front, the Sarge, leaned back, helping a fallen soldier. He shouted orders, but as a plain screamed across the sky, his voice was lost. In an instant, the boat slammed to a stop, and the door dropped. The second that happened, the bullets found their way through the mass of men, as they tried to escape this death trap. The lucky ones at the back of the boat used their friends bodies as shields against the onslaught. Yet somehow, someway, men found themselves on the beach. The beach led to a dense jungle, in which an unseen enemy continued to fire.
A Moroccan Marine, waving directing military traffic on the beach
Then, the most deafening sound of all began; naval bombardment. When straffing doesn't work, call in the big guns. It had its desired effect. The firing from the jungle stopped almost instantly. Wether it be out of fear, or a very lucky few hits, the soldiers took their time, pulling the dead from the beaches. Soon the tanks began rolling up, followed by more and more waves of soldiers. While this was no Normandy, to any man who experienced it, it was hell.
-Tales of a soldier; True Accounts on the Field of Battle- Moroccan best seller
Though NADTA does. 
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