File- Medal.of.honor.allied.assault.incl.dlc.zi... -

Near Saint-Lô, Normandy Date: June 10, 1944 — D-Day +4

Above them, the sky turned orange, and somewhere in the distance, a bugle played taps for men who had already fallen. The war was far from over — but for one afternoon, a patch of French soil was free. File- Medal.Of.Honor.Allied.Assault.Incl.DLC.zi...

“Powell! Roadblock at the crossroads,” Hawkins yelled, tossing the useless radio aside. “If we don’t take it by 1600, the 2nd Armored gets slaughtered trying to break through.” Near Saint-Lô, Normandy Date: June 10, 1944 —

“You ever think we’ll see something besides this?” Barnes asked, gesturing at the smoke and ruins. Roadblock at the crossroads,” Hawkins yelled, tossing the

Lieutenant Mike Powell pressed his back against the cratered stone wall of a shattered farmhouse. The ping of his M1 Garand’s empty clip ejecting was still ringing in his ears. Three German soldiers lay motionless in the tall grass ahead, but he knew more were coming. Somewhere to his left, Sergeant Hawkins was shouting into a broken radio, trying to reach battalion. To his right, Private First Class Barnes was feeding belts into his Browning .30 cal.

Near Saint-Lô, Normandy Date: June 10, 1944 — D-Day +4

Above them, the sky turned orange, and somewhere in the distance, a bugle played taps for men who had already fallen. The war was far from over — but for one afternoon, a patch of French soil was free.

“Powell! Roadblock at the crossroads,” Hawkins yelled, tossing the useless radio aside. “If we don’t take it by 1600, the 2nd Armored gets slaughtered trying to break through.”

“You ever think we’ll see something besides this?” Barnes asked, gesturing at the smoke and ruins.

Lieutenant Mike Powell pressed his back against the cratered stone wall of a shattered farmhouse. The ping of his M1 Garand’s empty clip ejecting was still ringing in his ears. Three German soldiers lay motionless in the tall grass ahead, but he knew more were coming. Somewhere to his left, Sergeant Hawkins was shouting into a broken radio, trying to reach battalion. To his right, Private First Class Barnes was feeding belts into his Browning .30 cal.