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As D-day got underway on Omaha Beach, the situation was looking grim for the Allies. Barely had the first wave of soldiers set foot on the sandy shore when they were subjected to a brutal barrage of German bullets and artillery shells. The naval bombardment they had hoped would clear the way had ended much too soon; the aerial bomb attacks had aimed too far inland, and rockets from landing craft tanks had fallen short of their targets. Months of planning were rapidly coming undone. The Omaha landings seemed doomed to failure, and the infantry was left to bear the brunt of the relentless German defenses.
Pinned down on the crimson-splattered sand by the endless stream of machine-gun fire and wondering if retreat was an option, the troops looked back at the sea behind them. Yet, much to their horror, what they saw was a Gleaves-class destroyer hurtling toward the beach at an alarming rate with thick smoke billowing from its stack, apparently out of control and about to run aground - right in front of the German guns. The soldiers winced in anticipation of the sound of screeching metal when, at the last second, the ship swung round to the left, its guns now directly facing the enemy positions. As the destroyer began unleashing a frenzy of cannon fire at point-blank range, the troops smiled at one another. The Navy was here, and maybe, just maybe, things were going to work out after all…