Every time they heard the signal, they responded in kind, and by the time they’d walked a mile through a field of yellow rapeseed, there were seven lost soldiers who had banded together.

Not knowing how to get to Sainte-Mère-Église from wherever they were, they decided to head toward their ultimate destination, Utah Beach. They could hear it in the distance from the amount of gunfire.

There were two suspected guns aiming at Utah Beach, and their company would have to take them out so that the armada of boats arriving would land safely.

But then, shots. Much closer than the beach.

They fell to the ground and crawled to the side of the gravel road they were traveling on. The gun was close. Close enough that Tom could feel his ears ringing.

It was ahead of them.

And as they approached, they heard commands shouted in German.

A chill shot through Tom like a Virginia winter. This was what they’d trained for. But nothing had prepared him for hearing the staccato words of the enemy’s language.

William assumed leadership of their group and gave the hand signals for them to advance. Rifles up.

They’d arrived at a clearing. It was nearly impossible to see the German soldiers amid a sea of netting and sandbags. They’d certainly mastered the art of fortification. But Tom could see the flashes of their rifles, and their positions would be momentarily lit up.

He looked at William, who was gesturing for them to flank the Germans on the left.

Tom turned around and repeated the motion to the men behind him.

They crouched low as they approached a bunker.

Tom watched as William held up his hand for the rest of them to stop. William pulled something from his pocket.

A grenade.

He pulled the pin and Tom’s heart seemed to stop as he watched. The Germans in the bunker were firing through the clearing at an alarming rate, and Tom assumed that the Americans on the other side of it must be advancing.

William crept forward and threw the grenade into the slim opening on the side of the bunker and started running back toward the woods.

The bunker exploded with spectacular force that could be felt even at this distance, leaves and branches and debris falling like rain. Tom didn’t see any way that the men could have survived. For a second, he knew victory. And as he looked to his right, he saw that William’s actions had opened a way for some of the American troops to move into the clearing.

His instinct was to run toward William, but he’d been given the order to stay. William suddenly stopped. And turned. Away from their direction.

He’d seen something. Someone. And he didn’t want them to know that there were others.

Then—a shot.