Lost Soldier

D DAY (JUNE 6 1944)  PVT JOHN DAVIS - CANADIAN ARMED FORCES

I waited as the boat I was in got closer and closer to the beach. I was ready for what was about to happen. My gun was loaded and was working properly. I had 3 grenades on my belt. My bayonet was on my gun and secured.

My name is John Davis, I am a Canadian soldier and this is my story.

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I enlisted on the second of September, 1939. I was bored with my job as a store clerk in downtown Toronto and wanted a change. I didn't know just how much of a change it would turn out to be at this point.

I was told that it would be easy: Go in to Europe, shoot a few Germans and parade through the streets of countries that I had liberated. That was so far away from the reality of what war is, I cant even begin to imagine what type of psychopath would ever tell someone that.

I got on a boat in Newfoundland on the 10th of December 1939. I had gone through just over a month of military training. It was extremely difficult and I was starting to regret enlisting already. Just before I kissed my Mother goodbye and shook hands with my father, My mother told me something

“John, if for some reason you don't come back, I just want you to remember that your father and I both love you more than anything in the world”

“I love you too mom, and you dad” I said nodding at my father

Then it was off to Europe. I was on that boat for 6 days before we arrived in Britain. After that we headed towards France.

I cannot describe the horrors that I experienced in mainland Europe.

The trenches alone were enough to be considered a human rights abuse. They were filthy, full of rats, the food we ate everyday tasted like vomit and there were fleas. Oh yes the fleas, They were everywhere. No matter how well you cleaned yourself; the little buggers were there again the very next minute. After 5 days in the trenches I was covered, head to toe in flea bites.

And then there was the actual fighting

I fought my first battle sometime in February of 1940. I still cant seem to recall where it was. It didn't really matter anyways. I want to put the war as far behind me as I possibly can.

I jumped out of the trench with the rest of my squad at 5 AM. We were all very nervous but quite confident as we had been told that the war would be over in a matter of months and each battle would be easy and a safe victory for the Allies.

Whoever told us that was very mistaken.

That battle was the most emotionally damaging thing that every happened to me, ever. My best friend was killed, Right in front of my eyes. I saw the bullet plunge into the side of his head.

I killed only 1 man in that battle. I didn't know how hard It would be to kill another man. I presumed that you just aim your gun and pull the trigger, easy as that.

It wasn't easy.

I aimed my gun and tried to pull the trigger. I hesitated for a few seconds. It was almost like there was some invisible force preventing me from pulling the trigger. I tried and tried but my finger just wouldn't touch the trigger. The man that I was aiming at turned towards me and, seeing that I was about to shoot him aimed his gun at me.

I pulled the trigger.

Time slowed down for a moment and I almost saw the bullet moving towards him. It struck him in the chest, Killing him instantly.

The battle was a Canadian victory. Afterwards my squad and I scoured the field as we advanced into the German's trenches, carrying away the remains of Canadian solders and looting the remains of German solders. I walked by the man I had killed.

I searched his pockets and in his front left pocket I found a photo. It was of him. He was in a Nazi military uniform and standing in front of a blue house. A woman, who I presumed to be his wife stood to his left. There were 2 children standing in front of him, 1 girl and 1 boy. They both looked to be no more than 8 years old. All of them were smiling happily and the man looked quite proud.

I had taken the life of another man, and not just a man but also a father. 2 children would now have to grow up without a dad. Saying that I felt horrible was an understatement.

I developed shell shock after that incident and it slowly escalated. I couldn't sleep and I cowered at even the slightest bang.

My squad's doctor suggested that I get 3 hours of extra sleep every day and signed a form allowing me to sleep in until 9 AM every day (Everybody else got up at 6 AM). Although it was nice, The extra sleep did absolutely nothing about  my shell shock.

The rest of the war up to this point was just as bad if not worse. 2 of my closest friends died, 1 of them right in front of me. I was finding life unbearable. I still am unsure of how I held onto my sanity all the way until this day.

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The boat neared the beach. I had been told that the Germans had no Idea that we were coming. I was also told to keep quiet, as the element of surprise was our one big advantage today.

The boat hit solid ground.

The front door slowly opened downwards, making a splash as it hit the water.

My squad and I jumped into the water.

Then all hell broke loose.