SAINTS AND SOLDIERS
(Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They belong to someone else. I just like them. I dedicate this fanfic to my friend My.Psuedonym.Was.Taken as she is unable to secure a DVD of the movie. This is for you. I hope you enjoy it.)
Chapter One: The Malmedy Massacre
Three men had been brought down by the sniper before they could figure out where he was hiding. The Lieutenant ordered him to clean out the sniper's nest from the tiny church tower and so he ran, rifle in hand, until he stood beside the open front door.
Unsure of the number of enemies that had barricaded themselves inside he pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it through the doorway. It exploded sending shrapnel and dirt out of the entrance. Waiting long enough for the debris to clear, he charged through, barrel first, firing at any movement he saw.
But when he stopped to survey his handiwork he gasped in shock. Lying dead in the room were two women and six children, their blood splattered on the walls and pooling on the floor. Something in him sickened and he backed away in repulsion.
To his left from the corner of his eye he saw another movement. The sniper had descended the bell tower's wooden stairway trying to escape with hopes to kill again.
Seeing the movement instinctively he raised his rifle and fired. The German yelled out in pain and collapsed dead on the stairway. His work done he headed back to his unit to report.
Lieutenant Lewis and Master Sergeant Gunderson listened as Corporal Greer described the scene in detail. Nathan Greer, or Deacon as he was called, wept bitterly into his hands like a child as he told them about the women and children. The more he talked the harder he cried hysterically.
"I want you to take him to St. Vith," Lewis told Gunderson. 'There's a hospital there. He needs looking after before he goes completely out of his mind."
Gunderson nodded and loaded Deacon into a jeep and headed east on the frozen Belgium road. Deacon rode silently caught up in his own world of grief.
Belgium was a beautiful country and Gunderson mentally promised himself that one day, when the war was over, he'd come back and visit. He always loved the mountains and Belgium had mountains that made the Rockies look like mole hills.
At intersecting roads stood a sign that pointed one way to St. Vith and the other to the town of Malmedy. Just as they were approaching the intersection they found themselves surrounded by German Stormtroopers, shouting in German and waving rifles in their faces.
Gunderson and Deacon stood ankle deep in the snow along with what looked like no less than 300 American soldiers that had been caught by surprise and had no choice but to surrender. The soldiers stood with their hands in the air, stripped of their weapons, while several German SS walked up and down the rows of soldiers as they rifled through their pockets searching for intelligence or whatever they could find.
Two SS laughed wickedly as they emptied one man's pockets filled with cigarettes and stuffed them into their own. When pictures of wives or girlfriends were found the SS would mockingly make remarks and tear their pictures in half tossing them to the ground while infuriated soldiers could do nothing but watch.
One Medic was attending to an injured man screaming in pain and bleeding profusely from a deep wound in his thigh while an impatient SS looked on, a frown etched across his face. The SS cursed the medic in German and shoved him trying to hurry him up. The Medic frantically tried to tie a bandage on the soldier's leg in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. "Alright, alright ... I'm hurrying," he told the brute. "Shut up," he growled nervously at the man. "You're making Düsseldorf mad. You're gonna get us both killed."
A young Stormtrooper pulled a packet of gum and a pack of cigarettes from Gunderson's pockets and stuffed them into his own.
"I hope you choke on it," he mumbled to him as the Stormtrooper moved on seeming not to notice.
Next he reached Deacon and pulled several white packets out of his pocket. Tearing one open he sprinkled the contents on the ground.
"Was ist dies?" he asked not really expecting an answer.
"Instant coffee," Deacon replied. "Kaffee," he translated.
The Stormtrooper looked up surprised. "Sie verstehen Deutsch?"
"Ja," Deacon answered. "Nur ein wenig." Impressed the young Stormtrooper nodded.
From Deacon's front pocket he pulled out a small black Bible the size of his hand. Inside the front cover was tucked a picture of an attractive young woman.
"Meine Ehefrau," Deacon explained. "Bitte?"
The Stormtrooper looked around to see if anyone was watching. "Ja," he answered handing the Bible back to Deacon.
"Danke," Deacon thanked him stuffing the book back into his jacket pocket as the Stormtrooper moved to the next soldier.
"You must be livin' right," Gunderson leaned over slightly and whispered to him.
"Yeah," Deacon answered nervously.
The Americans were getting angrier and considerably more frustrated as they stood in line being stripped of their belongs and identities. A Private with a bloody bandage over one eye was in obvious discomfort and pain as he became more noticeably irritated. He could not stand the humiliation any longer. With a cry of frustration he broke loose from the ranks and ran towards the wooded area behind them.
"HALT! HALT!" one of the German officers yelled out. "Sie auf oder ich werde schieBen! Halt! Niemand Bewegung!" He began firing his luger over the Americans' heads.
For a moment the world seemed to move in slow motion as both sides wavered unsure of what to do. The Germans drew their weapons preparing to fire. One soldier stripped an German officers' rifle from his arms and pulled the trigger killing him instantly. This set off an immediate reaction as a volley of fire, like a gruesome firing squad, blasted from the Germans mowing down the unarmed Americans. As many of the men collapsed bleeding and dying in the snow others scrambled for the supposed safety of the forest. It was total chaos. Two men running beside Deacon went down shot in the back.
Deacon made it to the line of trees dodging between them as bullets whizzed around his head. One big Stormtrooper followed him but lost him in the confusion. Looking around he spied two Americans hiding under a fallen tree.
"Kommen Sie heraus!" he ordered. One of the hiding men was a the Medic.
"Nicht schieBt!" one of the soldiers called out as they stood with their hands up. He was answered with a bullet to his chest.
Deacon had stopped not far away to catch his breath when he heard the shot. Angry he lunged at the Stormtrooper ripping his Mauser from his grasp and using the butt to knock him on the ground.
"SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM!" the Medic yelled jumping from his hiding place. The now unarmed German stood up as Deacon pointed the rifle at him.
"Surrender! Surrender!" The big German pleaded for his life.
"What are you waiting for? SHOOT HIM!" the Medic yelled again watching in disbelief as Deacon hesitated. "Give me the rifle! I'll shoot him!" the Medic tried to grab the rifle from Deacon.
"NO!" Deacon confronted him swinging the rifle around pointing it at the Medic.
"HEY! HEY! WAIT!" the Medic jumped backwards startled.
The German saw this and took the opportunity to escape. Running back into the trees Deacon swung the rifle back around just as the German disappeared into the forest.
"Do you know what you just did? You let the enemy get away!"
"Shut up!" Deacon scolded trying to listen as he lowered the weapon.
"Deacon! Deacon!" It was Gunderson calling out trying not to draw attention.
"Come on!" Deacon said to the Medic when he saw Gunderson hiding behind a snow covered rock.
He tried to run and was trampled in the panic. Luckily the snow provided somewhat of a cushion and he was unhurt. But when he thought it safe to wriggle out from the pile of bodies that laid over him he changed his mind.
With the sound of a Luger he realized the Germans were systematically executing the American soldiers. If someone whimpered, breathed or cried out, they received a bullet to the head. So he lay as still as he possibly could, barely breathing.
Kendrick wondered how long he could pretend to be dead before they discovered that he wasn't. The snow was freezing cold and he tried not to shiver. It seemed hours went by before the Germans moved on leaving the bodies of the dead Americans in the bloody snow.
When he could hear no more he struggled to move the bodies off of him. Poking his head out he could see that he was alone and so he quickly moved towards the forest. Anywhere was safer than here. Moving from tree to tree watching and listening he thought he saw some movement over by a rock. Peering around a tree he startled the hiders and one raised a rifle in his direction.
Gunderson could see an olive green American uniform. "He's one of ours," he said to Deacon. Deacon nodded in agreement and Gunderson whistled like a bird in his direction. Kendrick heard it and knew he had found some of his own and scrambled towards them. He immediately recognized the Medic.
"I'm glad to see you fellas," he greeted them with a lilting Southern accent. "Gould, I'm hit," he pointed to his back. Gould lifted his shirt to access his wound.
"It's just a flesh wound. I can take care of that," he told him as he reached into his pack and pulled out an alcohol swab. As he cleaned the wound he looked at Gunderson "This is Shirl Kendrick," he introduced him. "I'm Steven Gould … 285th."
"I'm Gordon Gunderson. This is Nathan Greer … 101st."
"Please to meet you," Kendrick said. "Gould, what the hell happened back there? It's like everyone went crazy."
"I don't know. We're just lucky to be alive," Gould finished and pulled Kendrick's shirt down.
"Y'all just don't know how lucky," he said and then began to tell them about what he had witnessed the Germans doing to the wounded American soldiers.
"Bastards," Gunderson snarled. "They're executing unarmed soldiers." He became so enraged it took him a moment to gather himself. "We need to keep moving. We need to find somewhere safe to hide. If we're caught they'll do the same thing to us." All agreed.
"How many bullets you got?" he asked Deacon. Deacon held up four fingers. "Alright," he sighed squaring his shoulders. "Deacon, you've got lead. Let's head out."
Keeping a distance of several feet apart from each other the four of them headed out. Deacon carried the German Mauser ready for anything.
As he walked he suddenly heard faint voices whispering incomprehensible words. He stopped and scanned the woods trying to listen, to discern where it was coming from. The sound mixed with the cold wind and was gone. Shaking his head to clear it he continued forward. Gunderson watched him from a distance concerned but didn't say or do anything.
What was there for him to do?