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Weekly Contest #324
Günter Weiss stared across the dark waters of the English Channel, his fingers trembling around the cold steel of his rifle. The wind bit into his face as it carried the smell of salt and damp earth. He had been staring for what felt like hours, waiting for the inevitable. Somewhere out there, beyond the fog and the endless waves, they were coming. He could hear them before he saw them the faint hum of engines, the distant thunder of planes. It was June 6th, 1944. The day the Allies would come to reclaim Europe. “Verdammt,” muttered Otto, on...
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