Do you have any idea what Hell-on-earth would be like? Ask Morley Piper. He’s no Michelangelo, but he can paint that hellish picture. On June 6, 1944, as a 19-year-old untested Army officer, Morley was sardine-packed on a Higgins boat, lurching toward Normandy’s Omaha Beach.
The sky hung low, like a giant gray blanket to be dropped over the dead. The Atlantic Ocean roiled in anger—as if it were on Hitler’s side—and Allied troops fought back seasickness and fear before they plunged into the salty waters. Soldiers prayed their combat boots would hit bottom, lest they be pushed to a drowning death beneath their 70-pound packs.
Morley was one of the lucky ones. He waded ashore through a hail of German gunfire. The sea and sand turned red as blood—much of it American blood, spilled everywhere. As one of his comrades writhed in pain, the teenage second lieutenant called for a medic. Miraculously, two corpsmen appeared “out of nowhere” to scoop up the wounded infantryman.
Morley watched as the pair scampered—with the stretcher—to what they hoped was safety. Seventy-one years later, he can still see the human carnage from the exploding land mine beneath their feet. On Day 2 of the invasion, the freshly commissioned leader could account for only 17 of his 42-man platoon in the 29th Infantry Division.
For 50 years, the newspaper executive couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about those horrific World War II memories. Finally, Morley’s family coaxed the reluctant hero to tell his story—the American story—of how the United States helped crush Nazi forces, liberating France and ultimately the Free World, once Japan fell, too.
Since his change of mind, Morley guestimates that he’s given 25 speeches. On the eve of D-Day’s 71st anniversary, I listened as he repainted the hellish picture for members of the Georgia Press Association on Jekyll Island.
