Eighty years ago today, my 20-year old father walked off a landing craft into the choppy waters of Omaha Beach at Normandy. In April 1994, shortly before his 70th birthday, he sent me some memories of his time in the Army. He was part of an anti-aircraft unit; when he refers to "tracks", those are the half-tracks (tires in front, tank-style tracks in back) with the guns mounted on top. Below are his experiences on D-Day: a ground-level view from a somewhat sarcastic private. This is as written, except for my comments and explanations in square brackets. On May [he meant June] 4 the order came to move out. We drove down to the beach and loaded our tracks on LCTS (LANDING CRAFT TANK). Then, as is the custom in the military, we sat around and waited. While waiting, I ran my assets of 40 cents up to $140 in a dice game. I loaned the money back to the losers (and never saw a cent of it again), but it did pass the time. Off we went, with braves [waves] breaking over the sides of th