The cold air of the early morning, the light mist over the shore, and the sounds of men loading ammunition into guns, tanks, and artillery. Diederich quickly got into his position of a MG gunner inside of a pillbox facing downwards towards the beach, so he could a viewpoint of the invaders that were supposedly going to land today. They had come a week before they were even expected to leave their mainland, but they had most of the defense set up: mines on stakes to hit any landing craft when high-tide was in, anti-armor and anti-infantry barricades set up, artillery that could hit anywhere on the beach, MG nests full of guns that shot 1,200 rounds per minutes, and infantry on the beaches to hold them down. If all else failed, then they would call in air-support from a series of dive bombers from a nearby airbase. It was the perfect defense and yet...and yet they tried their luck here? They would all die screaming for their God or their mother. Maybe both. It did not matter.
Getting into his placement, he wondered what the enemy would look like? Would they wear a similar uniform of snow-white tunic and pants with a black helmet and black boots? Or would they have green uniforms? Purple maybe? And what kind of weapons would they use? Assault Rifles? Bolt-Action or maybe even SMG's? Swords even? This was not the time or place to think about these thoughts, Diederich thought as he zeroed his secondary rifle in case the MG ever had an accident.
Two hours after they finished the defenses, or at least most of them, Diederich saw the first troop carrier. Then the second. Then the rest. So it was true. He heard the sound of the officers yelling to battle positions and so followed suite, and placed the butt of the gun on his shoulder. "Do not shoot those in the water. Only the ones on the beaches.", he reminded himself as the transport ship began to land. He began to move his finger towards the trigger, slowly as it touched the soft sand of the beach. The doors flew down and the noise began to engulf the beachfront as guns began to blast towards the open doors of the now several open troop ships. When Diederich pressed down, a sound like no other began to be sung from the barrel of gun, a sound that meant death. He watched as the bullets tore through the men below, showering those behind them in a red mist before they themselves were torn apart. Those that came out in time, or were lucky hid behind the anti-armor only showing their guns to shoot at them, and miss. He swiveled his gun and began to fire upon a man who though he could move to another piece of cover, but he was cut down when his leg separated from his body. Behind him, the sound of the artillery began to scream, and when the shells began to land they kicked up dust and sand and man alike, and threw them back towards the water or the beach.
Several hours passed, and the enemy forces secured the lower parts of the beach, killing the defenders down to a man. Finally he heard the low hum of an engine, although they came from the opposite direction he expected them from. By the time he realized what this had meant, they began to fire on the enemy pillboxes and killed the men besides him. To Diederich, it did not matter, he kept firing upon the men on the beach without a second thought. Then, another low hum followed by an ear piercing screech that gave him goosebumps. The ally air support was finally called in, and they brought one of the best dive bombers in all of Foxtrove. At first they flew over the sea, shooting at the transport ships still landing, but they soon rolled towards the beaches, and fired the 50. cal guns that made a tak-ka-ka-ka-ka noise when fired. Soon the ear piercing screech came back as they began the descent. The screeching only got louder and louder until they dropper their bombs and pulled up. When the bombs landed, they kicked up sand and man. One hit a tank and lit it up in a tower of smoke and fire. However, this did not turn the tide of the battle as soon after, the planes left back once two of their planes splashed. This would not go as planned.
Two more hours had passed and Diederich was on a truck with his MG in his lap and rifle shouldered. The pillbox he was in was over runned soon after the planes left, and he killed one man by stabbing him in the throat with his bayonet and two more with a hand grenade. Diederich gave a deep sighed and looked out the back to face the columns of smoke that plumed from the wreckage. His comrades' death shall not go unpunished. Foxtrove will be avenged.