The Silent Horror of Omaha Beach: Memories of a German Soldier on D-Day

On June 6, 2024, the world commemorated the 80th anniversary of D-Day, the Allied landing in Normandy that marked one of the bloodiest chapters of World War II. Among the stories preserved over these decades, the memory of Gotthard Neubert, one of the last living German soldiers who witnessed the chaos of Omaha Beach, stands as a grim reminder of what truly happened on that fateful day.

Born in November 1926, Neubert was just 16 years old when he was drafted into the Wehrmacht. He was little more than a boy, but was thrown into the clutches of a war that had already claimed countless lives. In his memoirs, he recounts the silent terror of the night before the attack, where he and his comrades knew something big was coming, but had no idea of the magnitude of what they would face.

“Wir hatten kaum ein Auge zugetan in der Nacht zum 6. Juni 1944.” (“We barely closed our eyes on the night of June 6, 1944.”) Neubert recalls. The tension was palpable. The distant roar of American planes cut through the sky, and explosions in the distance heralded the beginning of what would become one of the most brutal battles in modern history.

The Arrival of Hell

Around five in the morning, Neubert and his comrades saw a line of small dots on the horizon, which quickly transformed into Allied warships. “I will never forget the dull sound of the naval batteries,” he wrote, a memory that still haunts him. The ensuing bombardment was devastating, creating a cacophony of explosions that echoed along the coast.

That day, around 160,000 Allied soldiers landed in Normandy, with 40,000 concentrated in the Omaha Beach sector. Neubert, positioned on the front line in a bunker near Colleville-sur-Mer, watched as successive waves of American troops were decimated before they even touched the ground. “It was as if hell itself had opened,” he recalls.

“Der Tod reiste mit.” (“Death traveled with us.”) This was the thought that dominated Neubert’s mind as he witnessed the carnage unfold before his eyes. The beach turned into a killing field, with thousands of young American soldiers falling under the relentless fire of German machine guns and artillery. It is estimated that between 2,400 and 4,000 Americans lost their lives on Omaha Beach that day, many before they had the chance to fire a single shot.

The Aftermath of Destruction

Neubert describes the terror of being under constant attack, feeling each impact as if it were the last. In a moment of panic, he was shot in the leg. “I think I’ve been hit!” he shouted to his comrade Bemme, who helped him crawl to a shelter. He describes the scene inside the bunker as true hell, with wounded soldiers agonizing in every corner. The sound of screams of pain, mixed with the roar of explosions, created an inescapable atmosphere of despair.

It was during one of these explosions that Neubert was thrown to the ground, temporarily losing sight in one eye and becoming trapped under debris. When he regained consciousness, he realized he was seriously injured, but still alive. “Mensch, du lebst noch!” (“Man, you’re still alive!”), was the first thought that came to mind as he struggled to free himself from the wreckage that pinned him down.

Captured by the Enemy

The battle abruptly ended for Neubert when he and his comrades were captured by American soldiers. His description of this moment is raw and unadorned: the surrender was quick and inglorious, marked by the humiliation of being stripped of personal belongings as they were escorted through the corpses of their comrades and enemies. “What was left of us was just a shadow of what we were when we entered that battle,” he recalls.

As he was taken as a prisoner of war, first to a military hospital and then to a prisoner-of-war camp in the United States, Neubert began to process the trauma he had witnessed. He describes the journey as one of “pain and fear,” where the uncertainty of the future was his only companion.

A Memory That Persists

Gotthard Neubert’s account is a silent testimony to the brutality of D-Day. His words resonate with the raw reality of a soldier who was dragged into battle at a young age and who, against all odds, survived to tell his story. He does not boast of his actions, nor does he seek to justify them. Instead, he reminds us of the human cost of war—a price paid in blood, fear, and, for many, the irreparable loss of innocence.

This article, based on his memoirs, does not seek to glorify the conflict but rather to preserve the truth of one of the most decisive battles of World War II. Neubert’s story, like so many others, serves as a reminder of what really happened at Omaha Beach, a place where the silence after the battle was as deafening as the combat itself.