March 2, 1944

My name is Private Allan Thornton and I am an American Hero! At least that's what I said playing soldier with my buddies in the neighborhood back home. Now, I get to live that dream. My first day with the 1st Infantry Division. I'm proud to serve my country, like my father did in The Great War. I'm certainly nervous, but I get to do my family and my fiancé, Candace, back home proud. We've been training for an important mission, Operation Overlord is what they call it. It's intense stuff, makes me think what exactly we're about to experience. I'm going to do my best to write my thoughts here so I can look back on these moments.

April 7th, 1944

I didn't realize how busy I'd be, they're really putting us through the wringer here. Training, training, training, that's all we're doing. I'm exhausted but still in good spirits. They're finally giving us time to unwind, God forbid we get any free time. Hastings has been helping through this, I've grown a brotherly bond him. Who knew a timid New York city boy like me could make close friends with a small town Oklahoma man like Hastings. I hope we make it through this. I wonder how Candace is doing. She hasn't written back to me in a while.

May 10th, 1944

Just got a letter from Candance, I'm crushed. Turns out she met someone else, weddings off. Some yuppy from Manhattan. Can't say I'm surprised, it's hard being away from the one you've given your heart to. But I'm not the only one whose gotten these letters from their sweetheart back home. "Dear John" letters, the boys have taken to calling them. Now that I think about, lot of the guys around here are named John. Our platoon leader, Sergeant Colter, he's John. And Corporal Stevens, that asshole, he's John too! Funny thing, that. Anyway, at least Candace was honest about it. That's the only consolation I can give her, though. She should've just waited.

June 5th, 1944

Tomorrows the day. Operation Overlord. We've been here in England for about a month now, preparing for this day. The weather is gloomy and the food is dreadful, but the locals have been kind to us. We're preparing to land at Omaha Beach tomorrow, Sergeant Colter thinks we should be getting there at 0630. I'm shaking, a weird mix of excitement and fear. This is the time I get to make a name for myself. And remind that harlot Candace what she's missing out on. I shouldn't call her that, can't let my anger and stress get the better of me. The show is about to begin, can't back down now. It's time.

June 7th, 1944

I'm tired. And sad. And angry. Pretty much any negative emotion known to man is running through me right now. I can't even begin to put into words what I just experienced. I'm pretty sure I just took a journey through Hell. Bullets whizzing by overhead. Bodies, everywhere. My ears are still ringing from all the explosions. Upon my worst enemy, I would never wish they had to go through what I just did. Flashes of the battle keep coming back to me. Good God, what did I get myself into?

July 1st, 1944

I can't shake it. I see it all so vividly. The storming of Omaha Beach. Hell on Earth. Private Jensen was the first one to go down in our group. Didn't even make it to the beachhead yet and a bullet had already zipped right through his forehead. One minute we're talking about what we're going to do once we make it out of this, the next moment he hits the deck like a woodsman fells a tree. We hit the beachhead. Cliffs are lit up like a Christmas tree. Krauts raining lead and fury down on us. And we're ripe for the picking. We run. Only way to go is forward. Our fearless leader, Sergeant Colter, he was the next to go. German artillery turned him into a cloud of red mist. Just thinking about that makes me want to puke. More and more bodies gather on the beach after that. Including Stevens. And Hastings. Goddamn it Hastings. I was taking cover behind the body of another one of our fallen. About the only thing you could use as cover at this point in the invasion. I was paralyzed with fear, I didn't want to die. But then I look up and I see Hastings, hand outstretched to pull me up. It was like seeing my Guardian Angel. We charge forward. We're almost to the cliff side. German MG42s turned to us. Bullets whirring by me, just barely missing me. I turned around to check on Hastings. God...I can't talk about this anymore. I need to put this diary away for a while.

September 17th, 1944

When will this nightmare end? I just want to go home. I lost my fiance, my best friend, and so many of my brothers in arms since joining the Army. Please God, make the pain stop.

December 20th, 1944

Medical discharge. Only a few days into the Battle of the Bulge and they're sending me home. Was it worth losing a leg over? You bet your sweet ass it was. Anything to get out of here. I called Normandy a journey through Hell but little did I know that was just the first step. Every day since has been nothing but a nightmare. Endless suffering. That's all my mind goes back to. The bodies, the blood, everything about that day. I wish these memories could just go away and stay here in Europe. You know what, this diary is a start. This is my last entry. Then, I burn this thing. Why would I ever want to look back on something that caused me so much anguish? This is it. Goodbye, cruel memories.