Perspective: your grandfather or great-grandfather may have been on the “First Wave at Omaha Beach | An account of the ‘epic human tragedy’ that unfolded when Allied troops landed on the shores of Normandy on D-Day,” facing down Nazi machine guns, artillery, tanks, and airplanes in order to free Europe from that particular political scourge. You are afraid to talk to chicks, or unhappy because chicks are social media addicts, or lack the discipline to not cram poisonous sugar down your gullet. You are enamored of the fascistic moron in the White House, who would happily sell us all out for 30 silver (and is doing that whenever he can). On June 5 1944, your grandfather or great-grandfather may have been thinking that there is a very good chance this is the last day of his short life.
By the end of ten minutes, every sergeant is either dead or wounded. To the eyes of such men as Private Howard I. Grosser and Private First Class Gilbert G. Murdock, this clean sweep suggests that the Germans on the high ground have spotted all leaders and concentrated fire their way. Among the men who are still moving in with the tide, rifles, packs, and helmets have already been cast away in the interests of survival.
Compared to hitting the French beaches on June 6 1944, having a chick be mean to you is pretty minor.