Omaha Beach

Where once Normandy's coast resounded with the din of war, Now is heard the thunder of the surf racing t'ward the shore. Where once was heard the screams of dying and wounded men, Now is heard the mournful cry of a solitary tern now and then. In June of Forty-four, men stormed ashore to force a breach. Alas, many forfeited life upon that barren, crimson beach. Others died scaling those forbidding bluffs so high and steep. Gallant men quickly learned that victory does not come cheap! To free the world of tyranny, each took a noble stance, As across that treacherous strand they made their slow advance. Waves of courageous men struggled thro' that scarlet tide. On they strode thro' hell! "Press On! Press On!", they cried! Upon the plain above Omaha lie over nine thousand men we mourn, Awaiting Gabriel's clarion bugle call on that triumphant morn! Gleaming markers are etched with the names of heroes known. Alas, so many others read, "Known But To God Alone". Their eternal bourne began when they made their last patrol. They'll stand proud and tall to answer His calling of the roll! They rest in hallowed ground that once knew the scars of war. They are the bravest of the brave, remembered forever more! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)