The Warrior Heart October 2014 | Page 12

Bring Him Home
By Michael Ritt

Although he was in excellent shape, thirty five year old Mike Donavan had to stop to catch his breath. It was hot, even
for July, and the blinding sun light shimmered off of the waves like tiny mortars exploding across the surf. Mike used his sleeve to
wipe the perspiration from his forehead before it ran into his eyes. There was no easy path to this section of the beach; nothing
but rocks and driftwood to climb over and navigate around, and the pack on his back containing his metal detector actually
seemed to gain weight with each obstacle that he overcame. Mike hoped that he would have at least a couple more hours before
the sun went down.
The war had been over for seven years now, but standing on the rocks overlooking this secluded section of Omaha
Beach, he could see it as it looked on that day in June, 1944 when he saw it for the first time. He had been Lieutenant Michael
Donavan then, responsible for twenty men about to hit the beaches of Normandy as part of the largest seaborne invasion in history. One of those twenty men had been his younger brother, Tim.
Mike had come back many times since that day, but never to this particular part of the beach. He had been combing different sections every weekend since being assigned as an attaché to the U.S. Embassy in Paris three years ago.

12