Goblin
Posts: 5547
Joined: 3/29/2002 From: Erie,Pa. USA Status: offline
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Colonel Higginbotham looked out into the early morning haze as the thunderous reports of the destroyer Sigourney and cruiser Portland announced that the time had come. The bombardment was to begin at precisely 0430. He did not need to look at his watch to see if it was on time. While he could not see the shore from the pitching deck of the LCVP, he could make out the glow of the bombardment striking the shoreline. It was still very dark, and he estimated the visibility at 500 or so yards. Still, he could almost picture the looming heights of Hill 300, dominating LZ Red One, and its smaller cousin, Hill 122, overlooking Red Two. Both hills were jumble of rock, cliffs, and trees. He suspected that hill 300 would prove to be very bloody, but his Marines must take the heights to advance inland to their objectives. His mind drifted farther south to LZ Red Three; to the pile of rocks, boulders, jungle, sand, tall grass, and mud that the intelligence guys had named 'The Junkyard'. The fighting there would be particularly brutal, maybe more so than the relatively open Hill 300. Behind The Junkyard loomed Hill 214, promising to plunge fire downward onto any attacker. In the center, LZ Red Two, a huge rock wharf and fishing village were the main objectives. Hill 300 and Hill 122 overlooked the beach to the north, and Hill 205 to the east. The wide open expanse of sand, covered by the daunting hills made him grimace at the thought of the men who would face it. The LCVP suddenly surged forward. Higginbotham did glance at his watch this time, squinting in the pre-dawn light. The time had passed quickly, but there was no error. 0500. The Marines were about to hit the beaches.
< Message edited by Goblin -- 2/11/2006 2:14:45 AM >
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