(9 of 14)
There was some humor to being the flamethrower. While waiting to be loaded onto the ships at dockside, I would often light a cigarette using my weapon. Being experienced with it, I knew all the safety factors. I could, without triggering the propelling mechanism, light a cigarette by simply producing a small flame at the mouth of the gun. In doing so, it produced the same hissing sound as when the thrower was actually being fired. When my team would hear the terrifying sound, I would immediately be the only one on the dock.
The liquid used in the flamethrower [for training] had always been a pinkish-red in color and had a consistency similar to warm Jell-O. As we made ready for what we thought would be just another practice run, and as I filled my tanks, I saw that the liquid was not the usual Jell-O--like substance. What I was pumping was a mucus-like liquid both in color and consistency. I realized that morning that the invasion was on.
In the landing craft, I cowered with the others as we circled, waiting for our signal to approach. I remember looking back and seeing the Navy coxswain at the controls of our boat standing high above us completely exposed to enemy fire, doing his job as ordered. As our boat touched sand and the ramp went down, I became a visitor to hell. Some boats on either side of us had been hit by artillery and heavy weapons. I was aware that some were burning and some were sinking. I shut everything out and concentrated on following the men in front of me down the ramp and into the water. I stepped off the ramp into a deep pocket in the sand, and went under completely. With no footing whatsoever, and with the weight of the 80-lb. flamethrower on my back, I was unable to come up. I knew I was drowning, and made a futile attempt to unbuckle the flamethrower harness. Inadvertently, I had raised the firing arm, which is about 3 ft. long, above my head. One of my team saw it, grabbed hold, and pulled me up out of the hole to solid sand. Then slowly, half-drowned, coughing water and dragging my feet, I began walking toward the chaos ahead.
During that walk (I was unable to run), I got my first experience with enemy fire. Machine-gun fire was hitting the beach, and as it hit the wet sand, it made a "sip sip" sound like someone sucking on their teeth. Ahead of me in the distance, I could see survivors of the landing already using the base of the bluffs as shelter. Due to my near drowning and exhaustion, I had fallen behind the advance. To this day, I don't know why I didn't dump the flamethrower and run like hell for shelter. But I didn't.