"Still Very Much Alive"

Metaphysical Flash Fiction by Dennis Bruce Shipman (912 words)
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Enemy mortar rounds exploded on both sides of the Higgins landing craft, showering our helmets with saltwater. Nazi machine gun bullets ricocheted off the boat’s steel ramp door as it approached the shore. Nobody got hit though we all knew we were heading into hell.

The typical banter and lightheartedness that filled our conversations on the troop transport that brought us here to this place were noticeably absent in the landing craft. Observing my fellow soldiers, I sensed a range of emotions: fear, anger, hatred. No one wanted to entertain the thought of their own mortality. The idea of dying was something that nobody desired. Especially on foreign soil, away from friends and loved ones.

But we all knew that for some of us, June 6, 1944, would be our last day on earth. Our orders were clear: join a massive Allied force to land at Normandy Beach and liberate Nazi-occupied France, playing a crucial role in bringing World War II to a close. Nine companies of U.S. Army Rangers, the American 29th Infantry Division, and the 1st Infantry Division drew the task of securing the safety and control of the designated landing area, known as Omaha Beach.

As I pondered ahead into the years to come, it dawned on me that those of us who will be fortunate enough to survive the brutality of the day, the name Omaha Beach would forever be etched in our hearts and memories, like a piece of meat lodged in our throats that we could never swallow.

The boat's shallow draft scraped a sand bar on the shoreline, jarring us to a sudden stop. Our two guns, both Browning thirty-caliber machine guns, began firing, providing us with protective cover as the steel ramp door quickly dropped open, revealing the terrifying scene that lay ahead.

All thirty-six members of our platoon bolted off the ramp into the water. A few men hit a pocket of knee-deep water, causing them to misjudge the jump and stumble and fall into the water where they became vulnerable to the lurking threat of enemy snipers and their relentless barrage of machine gun fire.

I ran up the beach as fast as a racehorse when suddenly I felt an intense searing pain in my abdomen, then in my chest, and my recollection became hazy the moment it struck my forehead and shattered my skull. The next thing I remember was gazing at my lifeless body sprawled on the wet sandy beach, drenched in blood. I knew I was dead, but then again, I knew I was alive. It was confusing. Strangely, I didn't experience any sadness or happiness.

Instead, I felt a sense of relief and neutrality. Although I lacked any weapon or military attire, I felt safe and peaceful, and I somehow possessed a body made of shimmering, translucent light. There wasn’t a blemish in it. It was pristine pearlescent light in human form. At that point, I realized that the American society that I grew up in never taught me about this. But, no matter, I loved it!

As I stood on the beach, watching our men rush past me, it seemed like nobody even noticed my presence. Desperately, I shouted at them, "Hey, I'm here! I'm alive!" However, my words fell on deaf ears as they continued to ignore me and hurried on without acknowledging my existence. In a futile attempt to get their attention, I reached out to grab one of the men, but to my surprise, my hand passed right through his arm, failing to make any contact.

In disbelief, I positioned myself in front of a group of men as they charged up the beach, only to realize that they ran right through me as if I wasn't there at all. Oddly enough, I didn't experience any sensation of pain or discomfort, and it appeared that they didn't either.

I turned towards the raging battle on shore, where the chaos of war consumed our brave warriors. I witnessed their lives being taken away, much like what had happened to me. Enemy gun fire riddled their bodies, and their physical forms succumbed to death, but then something extraordinary occurred – their essence rose up out of their bodies, transcended their mortal shells and metamorphosed into radiant, ethereal beings of light. Amazingly, this phenomenon was not only occurring among our own men but also among the men of our Nazi enemy.

I witnessed a sea of luminous celestial entities arise from the deceased and ascend into a sky brimming with the same radiant brilliance as themselves. Among them, individuals who were once unswerving adversaries in life joined hands as they ascended together. Suddenly, out of nowhere, angels with massive pulsating wings materialized and warmly welcomed the ascending men. Celestial melodies resonated in the air, harmonizing with the angels' embrace as they guided the men upward.

In this transformed state of being, there was no longer any hostility. There was no enemy. Death held no power. War perished in the light. In the truth of this reality, I realized we are all brothers of the light. All of us who passed away on the battlefield, thousands upon thousands of us, were merging into the illumination, embarking on a new journey.

We were all still very much alive. Infinitely more alive in our light bodies than in our human form.

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