A Burrow, a Beach, and a Bridge
I wrote this piece in 2009 shortly after my grandfather died. It was written as a sample "feature" during my undergrad program in journalism, but it has come to mean much more than that to me. The stories here are pulled from a series of tapes someone recorded, a collection of memories recounted by my Grandpa Evert himself. It is intended as an act of gratitude for him, and for all who served (and continue to serve) in the armed forces. On the beach called Omaha , it had been raining for days. The seas were choppy. The wind was fierce. But history tells us there was a short break in the treacherous weather on June 6, 1944 – the day American soldiers stormed the beaches of Normandy, France. As Sgt. Evert R. Engstrom and the other members of the 27 th Armored Infantry Battalion, Company C, filed into the hull of their tank-like ship and waited for the gates to open and release them into the waters surrounding the beach, they heard the resounding boom of the big guns....