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California Before O. California Orange County. Hannah Fry. Follow Us twitter instagram email facebook. Jaclyn Cosgrove. Subscribers Are Reading. California Gov. Lifestyle The L. Then, what their eyes behold is either so limited or so staggering to the senses that control withers, the assault wave begins to dissolve, and disunity induced by fear virtually cancels the mission.
Outside the pall, nothing is to be seen but a line of corpses adrift, a few heads bobbing in the water and the crimson-running tide. But this is enough for the British coxswains. We must pull off. In the command boat, Captain Ettore V. Zappacosta pulls a Colt. The aid man, Thomas Kenser, sees him bleeding from hip and shoulder.
Kenser jumps toward him and is shot dead while in the air. Lieutenant Tom Dallas of Charley Company, who has come along to make a reconnaissance, is the third man. He makes it to the edge of the sand. There a machine-gun burst blows his head apart before he can flatten. Private First Class Robert L. His boot heel catches on the edge of the ramp and he falls sprawling into the tide, losing the radio but saving his life.
Every man who tries to follow him is either killed or wounded before reaching dry land. Sales alone gets to the beach unhit. To travel those few yards takes him two hours. First he crouches in the water, and waddling forward on his haunches just a few paces, collides with a floating log—driftwood. In that moment, a mortar shell explodes just above his head, knocking him groggy. He hugs the log to keep from going down, and somehow the effort seems to clear his head a little.
Feeling stronger, Sales returns to the water, and from behind the log, using it as cover, pushes toward the sand. Private Mack L. Smith of Baker Company, hit three times through the face, joins him there. An Able Company rifleman named Kemper, hit thrice in the right leg, also comes alongside.
Together they follow the log until at last they roll it to the farthest reach of high tide. Then they flatten themselves behind it, staying there for hours after the flow has turned to ebb. The dead of both companies wash up to where they lie, and then wash back out to sea again. As a body drifts in close to them, Sales and companions, disregarding the fire, crawl from behind the log to take a look.
The unfamiliar dead are left to the sea. So long as the tide is full, they stay with this unique task. Later, an unidentified first-aid man who comes wiggling along the beach dresses the wounds of Smith. Sales, as he finds strength, bandages Kemper. The three remain behind the log until night falls. Only one other Baker Company boat tries to come straight in to the beach. Somehow the boat founders. Somehow all of its people are killed—one British coxswain and about thirty American infantrymen.
Where they fall, there is no one to take note of and report. Frightened coxswains in the other four craft take one quick look, instinctively draw back, and then veer right and left away from the Able Company shambles. So doing, they dodge their duty while giving a break to their passengers. Such is the shock to the boat team leaders, and such their feeling of relief at the turning movement, that not one utters a protest. Lieutenant Leo A. Staff Sergeant Odell L. Padgett jumps him, throttles him, and bears him to the floor.
In two minutes, they are all in up to their necks and struggling to avoid drowning. That quickly, Pingenot is already far out ahead of them. Padgett comes even with him, and together they cross onto dry land. The beach of the cove is heavily strewn with giant boulders. Bullets seem to be pinging off every rock. Pingenot and Padgett dive behind the same rock. Then they glance back, but to their horror see not one person. They all make it to the shore, and they are twenty-eight strong at first.
Pingenot and Padgett manage to stay ahead of them, coaxing and encouraging. In the cove, the platoon latches on to a company of Rangers, fights all day as part of that company, and helps destroy the enemy entrenchments atop Pointe du Hoc. By sundown that mop-up is completed. The platoon bivouacs at the first hedgerow beyond the cliff. The other Baker Company boat, which turns to the right, has far less luck.
Staff Sergeant Robert M. Campbell, who leads the section, is the first man to jump out when the ramp goes down. He drops in drowning water, and his load of two bangalore torpedoes takes him straight to the bottom. So he jettisons the bangalores and then, surfacing, cuts away all equipment for good measure. Machine-gun fire brackets him, and he submerges again briefly. Never a strong swimmer, he heads back out to sea. For two hours he paddles around, two hundred or so yards from the shore.
Though he hears and sees nothing of the battle, he somehow gets the impression that the invasion has failed and that all other Americans are dead, wounded, or have been taken prisoner. Strength fast going, in despair he moves ashore rather than drown. Beyond the smoke he quickly finds the fire. Budziszewski is carried to the bottom by his load of two bangalores. He hugs them half a minute before realizing that he will either let loose or drown.
Next, he shucks off his helmet and pack and drops his rifle. Then he surfaces. After swimming two hundred yards, he sees that he is moving in exactly the wrong direction. But he meets only strangers, and none shows any interest in him. In Lieutenant William B. Guiding on his own instinct, the coxswain moves along the coast six hundred yards, then puts the boat straight in.
The ramp drops on dry sand and the boat team jumps ashore. Mortar fire has dogged them all the way; and as the last rifleman clears the ramp, one shell lands dead center of the boat, blows it apart, and kills the coxswain. Momentarily, the beach is free of fire, but the men cannot cross it at a bound. Weak from seasickness and fear, they move at a crawl, dragging their equipment. By the end of twenty minutes, Williams and ten men are over the sand and resting in the lee of the sea wall.
Five others are hit by machine-gun fire crossing the beach; six men, last seen while taking cover in a tidal pocket, are never heard from again. More mortar fire lands around the party as Williams leads it across the road beyond the sea wall. The men scatter. When the shelling lifts, three of them do not return. Williams leads the seven survivors up a trail toward the fortified village of Les Moulins atop the bluff.
He recognizes the ground and knows that he is taking on a tough target. Les Moulins is perched above a draw, up which winds a dirt road from the beach, designated on the invasion maps as Exit No. At the Flisvos Sport Club , you can sign up for windsurfing, wakeboarding or waterskiing, hire a mountain bike, or play a game of beach tennis or volleyball. The beach is lined with laid-back tavernas and beach clubs which hire out sun loungers.
Even in summer, the beaches of the rugged Crozon peninsula remain relatively quiet. In a sheltered bay, where the peninsula meets the mainland, is the seaside town of Morgat, with its crescent of pine-fringed sand. There are surf and dive schools, bikes and kayaks to hire, and sailboats to rent.
Refuel at one of the many creperies on the harbour — Atao Aman 34 Boulevard de la Plage serves savoury and sweet versions. Fishermen tend their nets on the sandy Blue Flag-certified beach, and dinosaur footprints can be found preserved in the limestone rocks. The gentle waves are perfect for a spot of boogie boarding under the watchful eye of the lifeguards on duty in the summer.
There are sun loungers and umbrellas for hire, toilets and showers, and a good choice of restaurants and cafes. Picture a beach holiday and Finland is not the first country that springs to mind, yet this Nordic country is home to one of the finest stretches of sand in northern Europe.
Yyteri beach, near the city of Pori, is a 5km stretch of powder-soft sand backed by dunes and pine forests. In late summer, the shallow waters of the Baltic are surprisingly warm and the offshore breezes attract surfers from across Scandinavia.
There are wetsuits, surf- and stand-up paddle boards for hire from the Yyteri Surf Centre purjelautaliitto. Cala Gonone ticks all of the right boxes. White pebble-and-sand beaches, with sun loungers and parasols for rent, calm, turquoise waters for swimming and snorkelling, a long seafront promenade lined with low-key trattorias — and none of the bling that accompanies the glitzier Costa Smeralda to the north.
The town has two fine beaches: Playa de Comillas, which has a sprinkling of cafes and a small fishing harbour, showers, ice-cream stalls and rock pools to explore; and the wilder Playa de Oyambre, backed by a beautiful nature reserve and the snow-capped Picos de Europa mountains.
Sandy beaches are outnumbered by pebbly ones in Croatia, but the car-free island of Lopud, a minute ferry ride from Dubrovnik, is the exception. There are two restaurants, both of which rent deck chairs and beach umbrellas, and a choice of activities from beach volleyball to tennis. From the port, there are boat trips to the nearby town of Porto-Vecchio. Menorca has some of the most family-friendly beaches in the Med but they are often busy in July and August. This horseshoe-shaped beach is a popular day trip for residents of the capital Mahon but the absence of any hotels has kept things pleasantly low-key.
The tranquil bay with a natural, undeveloped backdrop, is like a vast, shallow paddling pool and you can hire kayaks and paddleboards from local operator Menorca en Kayak. It seems invidious to choose only one Pembrokeshire beach — Barafundle and Whitesands are both hard to resist — but Marloes is very special.
The half-mile cliff walk puts the crowds off, and there are no facilities at all. Yet you have a mile of broad sweeping sand dotted with towering rocks that stand in large low-tide pools flickering with tiny fish and shrimps.
The firm, flat sand is perfect for beach games or galloping horses Snow White and the Huntsman was filmed there in The south-facing aspect bodes well in summer, but check the tides and wind. East and North Yorkshire have some tremendous coves and beaches, but Runswick, near Whitby, gives a concentrated dose of all that is on offer: superb views from the cliffs, then a sharp walk down via a tangle of cottages to a mile of beach that is mixed sand and shingle, with good cafes.
Look out for fossils and jet, the two treasures of these parts, but if venturing beyond the beach under the cliffs, check the tide times. The Cleveland Way coastal path passes along the beach. Up a little cul-de-sac road from the A coastal road, this delightful sheltered sandy beach has great views across Gruinard Bay.
There are other beaches to explore nearby, plus the renowned Inverewe Gardens, but the real pleasure is just to play on the beach or fish from the rocks either side. Northumberland has several gorgeous expanses of sand backed by wonderful play areas, also known as dunes, but Bamburgh is the pick of the lot.
Nearby are the Farne Islands, accessible via boat trips from Seahouses, a three-mile walk south, mostly along the sands. Surfers love the place, as do dog walkers, horse riders, anglers and kite fliers. There is so much space that one thing you will never find is crowds. Springhill Farm springhill-farm. The far west of Cornwall is a land of stone circles and tiny coves.
Superb tidal sands reach from Logan Rock to Porthcurno and form a vast sand bar that traps and warms seawater in shallow lagoons. There are rocks to dive from and you can wade or swim to several smaller coves.
The beach is semi-naturist, and a tricky final descent over rocks keeps it wild and special. There is a tiny cafe in Treen village serving breakfast and local breads. On wet evenings you can hole up in the ancient Logan Rock Inn. Mile after mile of gorgeous beach can be found up and down the island, some good for surfing, others for lounging and one or two for hiking.
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