Spotters or Spotted
By: AliasCWN
The early morning sky lit up with explosions as the mortar teams hammered the only road running through the valley. Tanks, leading the attack, scattered under the assault.
Sam Troy waved at the other jeep to make a swing around the end of the tanks. Usually they were sent out ahead of the limbering behemoths but they had been on another assignment when the attack began. On their return to base they had immediately been sent back out. Now, outpacing the heavy vehicles, they were intent on locating the enemy mortar teams.
The two jeeps raced for the hills in front of the tanks, their drivers running half way up the slope before they stopped. As the sergeants clawed their way to the top, both drivers maneuvered their vehicles for a quick getaway.
Jack Moffitt held a machine gun ready and, at a signal from Troy, he raked the top of the hill with bullets. Troy stood up and lobbed a grenade over the crest of the hill and then dropped flat on the sand. Return fire whistled over their heads as the two sergeants hugged the ground. The explosion was their cue to charge the hill, weapons ready.
Throwing themselves to the ground at the top, they peered over the crest. The dead mortar team lay scattered where the blast had thrown them. Troy whistled and the two jeeps spun their wheels all the way to the top of the ridge. The sergeants climbed into their respective jeeps and prepared to repeat the maneuver on the next hill. One by one they cleared the mortar teams in front of the advancing column.
A loud boom echoed across the valley accompanied by a geyser of dirt erupting in front of the column of tanks.
"Troy! They've got spotters out here for their 88's." Moffitt yelled to be heard above the thunder of the big guns.
"I see him!" Troy called in return. He pointed at a lone soldier holding a radio and binoculars. He cleared the 50 and targeted the spotter as the jeeps raced closer. The heavy slugs smashed the radio beyond repair just before it did the same to the spotter. Bullets whipping past his head alerted him to more Germans hiding in the sand. Troy ducked the lead and ordered his driver to break off the attack. With the radio gone, the rest of the spotting team would be ineffectual.
The big German guns continued to hit the road, holding the tanks from advancing. The armored column was forced to retreat as the huge guns walked their shells toward them.
"We need to call in the location of those guns." Moffitt was watching for the tell-tale flashes as the huge guns fired.
"Get on the radio, I'll give you the coordinates." Troy had Hitchcock racing for the next hill to get a closer look at the gun placement. Tully dogged the heels of the first jeep, staying within shouting range.
Moffitt used his radio to call headquarters to arrange for an artillery barrage. As soon as the artillery operator came on line Moffitt gave him the general coordinates for the hill. "Fire one round and stand by for corrections." The operator confirmed and Moffitt waited for the first round.
"Are you ready?" Troy turned to call to Moffitt. A single round of artillery whined overhead in answer. The shell hit short of the guns. "Up 200, left 100."
Moffitt relayed the correction and waited for the next round to hit. Within a moment it screamed over their heads. This one was off too.
"Up 100, left 50."
They repeated the whole routine; this time the shell hit along the line of guns.
"Bulls-eye! Let them have it!" Troy called.
The artillery battery opened up with everything they had. The hills around the guns lit up with explosions. They grinned at each other as they saw the German guns slow their fire and gradually go silent. The shells peppered the hills all around the German placements.
Two German patrol cars appeared over the hill just below where the guns were getting hit.
Tully called a warning when he spotted the cars.
"That's our cue to leave." Moffitt called with a huge smile. Once the Germans realized that there were spotters on the hills, they were bound to send someone to eliminate them.
Troy ordered a strategic withdrawal. The two jeeps headed away from the German lines, keeping alert for the approaching patrol. Another volley of shells screamed over their heads on their way to the big guns.
"I think it's high time we get out of here." Moffitt mentioned to no one in particular.
They came out of a wadi and drove straight toward their own lines. An odd sound caught his attention and Tully looked up to see an artillery shell headed directly toward them, its trajectory much lower than the rest. He yelled a warning and whipped his wheel to the right, increasing the distance between the two jeeps.
Moffitt grabbed for the base of the 50 for support as the tiny vehicle swerved crazily. Stone and bits of metal pinged off the frame of the vehicle; dust filled the air, making visibility a problem.
Tully slowed the jeep as the dust began to settle. Looking around for the other jeep, he found it thrown onto its side. One of the front tires spun lazily, creaking faintly as the friction brought it to stop. Steam rose from the punctured radiator like a cloud of smoke.
"Troy!...Troy!" Moffitt jumped to the ground and ran to the still form in the sand behind the jeep. A groan escaped as Troy tried to sit up, looking like a sand man coming to life. Fine sand covered him from head to toe. "Troy, are you alright?" Moffitt knelt next to the other sergeant and helped him to sit up.
"I think so." Troy flexed his arms and legs, checking for injuries. He groaned as he moved his left arm, grasping his should in pain. Gingerly probing the area, he felt for any broken bones.
"Let me look at that." The British sergeant reached for the arm. Moving it back and forth, he ran his fingers over the shoulder joint. Troy groaned again and clenched his teeth to hold back a gasp of pain. "You may have torn a muscle." He pulled his belt loose and made a sling for the arm. "This should help, we need to get you to a doctor."
"Hey Sarge."
Moffitt turned at Tully's call to see him kneeling next to an unconscious Hitch. The blondes face was covered in blood from a cut on his temple. Tully was holding a cloth over the wound to slow the bleeding. Moffitt returned to the jeep and gathered their medical kit. Tully helped him clean the wound and wrap it with gauze.
Troy, unsteady on his feet, staggered over to them. "How is he?"
"Unconscious." Moffitt said tersely. "He has a cut on his head that's bleeding heavily, but then head wounds always do."
Tully gave a warning shout and pushed Moffitt to the side. Bullets tore through the air where he had been sitting. Tully dove for the jeep and the machine guns in the holsters on the front fender.
Troy and Moffitt flattened themselves on the ground, keeping as low as possible. The guns above followed Tully as he went for a weapon. Moffitt tapped Troy on the arm and pointed at Hitchcock. Troy nodded as Moffitt made a run for the jeep too.
Tully reached over the fender and pulled the gun free. He raked the crest of the hill, giving Moffitt cover as he made his run.
The soldiers from the German patrol ducked as Tully sprayed the sand in front of them. One of them took a chance and rose to try to locate the American spotters; Tully filled his chest with hot lead. Throwing his arms out, he fell, dropping his rifle. His friends watched him fall, suddenly aware that they had lost the advantage. Not expecting such a quick recovery from the surprise, they now found themselves facing several competent and angry soldiers. The only thing that saved any of them was the fact that they held the high ground. Unless they exposed themselves, the Americans would have to shoot over the hill to hit them. Motioning for two of his men to try to flank the Americans, the lieutenant in charge settled on the sand to wait for them to ambush the unsuspecting spotters.
He was sprawled in the sand on his back, secure in the knowledge that they had the Americans right where they wanted them. All they had to do was lay low and wait for his men to catch the Americans unware when they appeared behind them.
The 50 caliber bullets couldn't go up and over the hill to reach the Germans so Moffitt opted to shoot through the sand near the crest instead. Heavy bullets plowed through the sand and embedded themselves in the soft flesh on the other side. The lieutenant and his remaining men jerked as the lead tore through muscle and cartilage; they died never knowing what hit them.
Moffitt held his fire, listening for any sounds from the other side of the hill. When there was no sound or movement, he relaxed his grip on the handles of the 50.
Tully cried out again as bullets tore up the sand beside him. He spun away from the protection of the jeep and searched for the source of the fire. The two men popped out from their cover to shoot again, expecting the rest of the German patrol to cover them. Tully spotted them and returned fire, knocking one to the ground and driving the second one to seek shelter. He died too as Tully followed him with a stream of lead. His body slumped to the sand next to his partner.
"You okay Sarge?" Tully called to Moffitt who was sliding to the ground next to the jeep.
"I'm fine Tully, thanks to you."
Tully nodded, pulling his hand behind him to hide the blood dripping from his fingers.
"Tully, you're hit!" Moffitt rushed toward his driver.
"It's just a nick Sarge." He shrugged it off. "Check on Hitch."
The blood was already starting to clot so Moffitt turned from his driver to heck on the blond. Hitch was awake when he stopped next to him. Troy, protecting his driver with his own body, rolled to the side to allow Moffitt access.
"How are you feeling Hitch?"
"Okay Sarge." The blond nodded gingerly. "Was that one of our shells?"
"I'm afraid so lad, just who did you make mad in that artillery company anyway?"
"I don't know." The blond seemed to be giving it some serious thought. "I can't think of anyone who would be mad enough to want me dead…Nope, it wasn't me. They must be mad at Sarge, you'd better ask him." Hitch grinned at his sergeant.
Troy snorted, trying to hide a laugh. "Hitch, you probably stole one of their girls. You have so many you probably just forgot."
Moffitt finished his exam of the younger 'rat' and sat back. "You had a blow to your head that knocked you out. Other than that, you have a cut that may need stitches and some bumps and bruises. I'd say you were lucky, it could have been much worse."
"Well then, why don't we go ask them who it is that they're mad at?"
Moffitt checked Tully's arm before they helped Troy and Hitch into the jeep. Deciding it would be better to tend to the wound in a safer place, they headed for their lines again.
"You're awfully quiet." Troy was watching Hitchcock, noting the pensive look on his face. "You're not worried about the artillery guys trying to kill you are you?"
The blond shook his head. "I know it was probably just a faulty shell. They had no way of knowing where we were in any case."
"Then what is it?" Troy pushed for an answer.
"Friendly fire Sarge. That was one of our shells. Nobody wants to die in friendly fire."
"No they don't, but it does happen. Mistakes happen in the chaos of war. Things happen fast and things get confusing. We can be grateful that it all worked out this time; nobody died."
"Amen to that!" The blond said with feeling.