Kwai kwai nidobak! This is the prequel to my Lightning series, which is set during the Second World War. I've been waiting to write this story for a long time now and I'm happy to start writing it. I've spent months preparing and doing research on World War II for this fic. Just like the rest of the Lightning series, this story will have very dark themes, so be prepared for that. Remember to leave a review or send me a PM!
Historical Fact: The battle of D-Day was originally going to take place on June 5th, but it was postponed a day because the weather was uncooperative.
Chapter 1: Operation Overlord
Normandy, France: June 6th, 1944
It was a cloudy morning on the coasts of Normandy, France and thousands of LCVP boats could be seen heading towards Omaha Beach. Gunfire and explosions could be heard as squads of American soldiers stormed up the war torn beaches. The current battle that was taking place only just started, but bodies were already littering the sands of the beach and the ocean near the shore was practically red with blood.
One one of the boats that hadn't landed on the beach yet, there was a soldier of Native American descent waiting for the boat's hatch to open. This man had tanned skin and dark brown eyes that looked black from a distance. It was hard to see because of the brownish green helmet he was wearing, but he had dark brown hair that was shaved into a buzz cut.
This man was wearing the same army uniform that everyone else was wearing. Brownish green pants and a jacket with brown leather boots. He also had a steel helmet planted over his head.
On his back however, was a large radio that would allow the sergeant of his unit to communicate with higher ups. This soldier wasn't like other radio men because he was the one who would speak into the radio. This was because he was a Code-Talker, which were Native American soldiers who spoke into the radio using their native languages so that the Germans couldn't understand them if they were listening in on their radio frequencies. This particular Code-Talker could fluently speak English, Abenaki, Navajo, and Lakota.
This Code Talker's name was Dylan Bedage. He had a ceremonial tomahawk strapped to his belt and he was holding the barrel of an M1 Garand in his left hand. In his right hand however, was a black and white photograph of him happily standing next to a dark haired woman. He stared into this photo as the carnage raged outside the boat.
"Sixty seconds!" the sergeant of his squad shouted over the loud gunfire.
Dylan instinctively nodded to this and he looked down at his shaking hand holding the photograph. He could hear a few people around him throw up due to both nervousness and sea sickness. There were also a few people reciting Christian prayers while some others murmured Jewish prayers.
The Code-Talker flinched suddenly when the man to his left bent down and vomited on the boat's floor. A small spec of vomit landed on Dylan's boot and he sighed in both annoyance and pity.
Hoping to take his mind off the sick man next to him, the Native American soldier stuffed the photograph into his coat pocket. He then reached into one of his pockets, took out a condom, and shakily placed it over his rifle's barrel. He was hoping that the condom would prevent water from getting into his gun.
Once he felt like he was ready, he faced forward and looked at the backs of all the nervous men in front of him. After a few seconds, the door at the front of the boat dropped open, allowing everyone to look at the bloody beach they needed to storm onto.
Before anyone could even take a single step forward, a hail of bullets rained down into the boat. Blood splattered out of the soldiers who were shot and they all stumbled down, never to move again.
"Holy fuck! I've been shot! Oh god!" one of the soldiers in front of Dylan screamed in agony before he fell face first into the salty water.
Luckily, the Nazi machine gunner focused on another approaching LCVP boat and the surviving soldiers rushed out of the boat. Dylan was among the people who survived and he sprinted out of the boat and into the water. He nearly tripped on something under the water, most likely a dead body, but he was able to steady his footing and he quickly made his way over to the beach.
By the time he reached the sandy beach, the lower half of his body was soaking wet and blood splatters from his friends and fellow soldiers stained his clothes. He firmly held his M1 Garand with both hands, causing his knuckles to whiten. He then ripped the condom off of the tip of the barrel and threw it to the bloody ground.
Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his uneasy nerves, Dylan began to run up the beach. The large radio on his back made it difficult however because it was heavy. As he ran, bullets flew passed him and a few of the soldiers near him were torn apart from the gunfire.
An enemy mortar struck the ground not to far from the Code-Talker and he fell to the ground because of the explosion's shockwave. He dropped his rifle and covered his helmeted head with his shaky hands As sand flew over and onto his prone body.
Dylan felt someone grab hold his forearm and he was quickly pulled up to his feet. He looked over at the man who made him stand to see that it was a sergeant he didn't recognize.
"Come on, kid! Stick with me!" the sergeant screamed over the gunfire as he pulled the Code-Talker into a sand dune, where about half a dozen other soldiers were taking cover.
Once they were all in the sand dune, Dylan took the chance to look around the area. There were bodies all over the bloody beach and he could see that some groups of soldiers made it further up the beach than he and this squad did. The air reeked of death and he could barely even smell the ocean. No too far away from thei position, an armless man could be seen stumbling up the beach before he stumbled to the ground, dead.
The Native American soldier was brought out of his trance when one of the soldiers in the sand dune pressed a Thomson submachine gun against his chest.
"Take it!" the soldier shouted over the loud gunfire.
Dylan noticed that the soldier offering the gun already had a weapon for himself, a Flamethrower to be exact, so he assumed the soldier found the gun somewhere else. He just nodded to the soldier and took the submachine gun.
"On my mark, we'll all charge up the beach at once! It isn't safe staying in one place for too long!" the sergeant of this squad shouted with authority in his voice. "Okay! Let's go!" he boomed as he and everyone else stood up.
Even though these people weren't part of his squad, Dylan felt like he should stick with them. It was a hell of a lot better than going up the beach by himself. He followed all the soldiers out of the sand dune and they all sprinted up the war zone as fast as they could.
Unfortunately, some of the soldiers he was with were gunned down from machine gun fire, yet they all still kept charging forward. The sergeant was leading them to a hedgehog up ahead to use as cover. A single bullet from a Nazi machine gun hit the upper left part of Dylan's chest causing him to cry out in pain.
The Code-Talker stumbled and fell to the ground as the bullet hole in his chest bled heavily. He shakily looked up to see the rest of the soldiers he was with were still running up the beach, leaving him behind. He then looked to his right to see a small sand dune that he might be able to take cover in.
Dylan groaned in pain as he crawled over to the sand dune and practically rolled into the crater. He breathed heavily as he laid down on his side and he pressed his right hand over his bleeding wound. His left hand held the Thomson he was given by the weapon's barrel and he was staring at the Nazi bunkers up the beach.
"I... I want to g-go home..." Dylan shakily sobbed as tears came to his eyes and he started trembling; his whole body felt cold.
All of a sudden, a glowing purple light shined in the Code-Talker's peripheral vision. He slowly looked down to see a violet crystal was half buried in the sand near his waist. Not knowing what else to do, he let go of the submachine gun in his left hand and shakily pulled the crystal out of the sand. It seemed to glow more brightly as he held it and he pressed it against his heart.
His dark brown eyes widened when he noticed that sparks of violet electricity began to sparkle and crack from the crystal and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to release the crystal.
As this happened, an enemy mortar fell through the sky amidst the chaos and it was falling towards the downed Code-Talker. There was a bright purple flash right before the mortar hit the ground and exploded.
When the smoke and dust finally settled, the crater in the sand was much bigger than before, but there was no body or blood. Dylan had vanished before the explosive could even hit him. Even with him gone, the hellish battle on the beach continued and more people died without his presence.
Zhytomyr, Ukraine: A Few Hours Earlier
There were cloudy skies in the Nazi occupied country Ukraine and gunshots could be heard within the city of Zhytomyr. Despite the cloudy sky, the weather was rather warm. Not hot exactly, but warm.
Like many cities around the area, the streets were almost completely empty of civilians because of the fighting between the Third Reich and the Soviet army. None of the Ukrainian civilians wanted to be caught in the crossfire.
There were two Nazi soldiers laying on their bellies within a partially destroyed office building and they we're looking out an open window near the top floor. Both of these soldiers were part of the Waffen-SS and one of them was aiming down the scope of a Karabiner 98k bolt-action rifle. The other soldier was looking through some binoculars because he was the sniper's spotter.
Both of these soldiers wore dark gray greatcoats with red swastika armbands on their left forearms. They were also wearing dark gray pants that were tucked into their black boots. They also wore stahlhelm helmets over their heads for protection.
The Nazi with the sniper rifle had pale white skin, like his partner, but his eyes were blue. Under his German helmet, his black hair was cut short and combed back in a very professional fashion. This sniper's name was Fritz Brände. The man he was with was his spotter.
"Ich sehe sowjetischen hundert wegmeter; nahedem Fahnenmast. (I see a Soviet one hundred meters away; near the flagpole.)" the Nazi looking through the binoculars murmured so only his partner could hear.
Fritz slowly aimed his sniper rifle towards the flagpole and spotted a Russian soldier urinating on the ground, facing away from them. From what he could see, the Soviet was an officer or some kind of high ranking soldier.
The SS sniper closed his left eye so he could concentrate on looking through the scope and he set the crosshairs a little to the right of the soldier's head because there was a slight breeze heading towards his left. He took a deep breath to steady his aim and as he exhaled, he squeezed the trigger. Just as he predicted, the bullet swiftly entered the back of the Russian's skull and brain matter splattered out of his head while he fell to the ground.
"Guter Schuss, Oberschütze Brände. (Good shot, Oberschütze Brände.)" the spotter praised, referring to the sniper by his rank.
"Danke. (Thanks.)" Fritz replied with a small smile as he pulled the bolt of his rifle back and pushed it forward again, loading a new bullet into the chamber.
The two men were silent after that and they searched the area for any enemy soldiers. Unlike a few other streets in the city, the one they were looking down at was completely barren of life. Suddenly, dozens upon dozens of Soviets ran out of one of the buildings near the flagpole and opened fire on the two Nazis general position.
"Heilige Scheiße! (Holy shit!)" the spotter screamed with wide, brown eyes as bullets whizzed past them and hit the walls behind them, causing clouds of dust and splinters to burs from the bullet holes.
Fritz Brände began to sweat nervously as he aimed down his rifle's scope. He fired shot after shot until he had to reload his Karabiner 98k rifle, only to shoot some more at the approaching army.
A few of the shots missed, but some of the bullets hit their targets; Not all of them were kill shots though. The men who were shot slumped to the ground with splatters of blood exploding out of their gunshot wounds. Unfortunately, with every soldier shot, three took their place. It was as if the small army was a hydra from Greek mythology.
"Es gibt zu viele von ihnen! (There's too many of them!)" the Nazi spotter screamed in horror as he dropped his binoculars and pulled out his Mauser HSc pistol.
"Mы идeм для вac нaциcтcкиe cвиньи! (We're coming for you Nazi pigs!)" one of the Soviet soldiers screamed with hate in his voice, just barely audible over the gunfire.
Fritz felt a shiver run up his spine when he heard that. He wasn't sure what that soldier just yelled, but he knew it was something bad. He did his best to ignore it however and continued to fire shot after shot with his rifle. As he kept shooting with his sniper rifle, the German spotter began to open fire with his pistol.
Even with the two of them shooting, the Soviets kept charging towards the building they were in. They did not seem to care about their loses or even their own safety. They wouldn't stop until Fritz and his spotter were both dead or captured. Neither of the Nazi soldiers knew which was worse.
"Ӷoᴛoвьᴛecь cᴛᴘaдaᴛь, вы ᴍудaҝи! (Get ready to suffer, assholes!)" the two Nazis heard another Russian soldier scream at them over the gunfire.
All of a sudden, a T-34 Russian tank drove into the open street and the vehicle's cannon slowly turned to point at the building the two Waffen-SS soldiers were in. They both quickly turned to look a one another before they looked back at the tank. They both looked away from one another and dove to the ground As fast as thy possibly could.
The sound of the tank's cannon firing could easily be heard and the explosive projectile smashed into the window they were originally looking through. Parts of the ceiling and the upper half of he wall near the window collapsed while dust and debris flew through the now dusty air.
Fritz trembled uncontrollably as he laid down with his back against the floor. He lost his sniper rifle during the explosion and he was now unarmed. Blood and pieces of gore could be seen scattered all over him and severed limbs from his spotter were all over the room.
The Russian soldiers below stormed their way into the office building after one of them kicked the front door open. Fritz Brände could hear them searching the building and slowly make their way up the stairs.
"Oh mein Gott, möchte ich nicht tun... (Oh my god, I don't want to die.)" the German sniper shakily murmured as he very slowly stood up on his wobbly legs.
The SS sniper slowly took a step forward, but almost tripped on something in the process. He looked down at the bloodied floor to see what almost caused him to fall over and saw a glowing purple crystal resting on the floor. Not knowing what else to do, he bent down and scooped up the crystal with his shaky hand. His wobbling legs gave out at that moment and he fell to his knees.
"Schützen Sie mich bitte, Gott. (Please protect me, God.)" Fritz prayed as his back slouched and he closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the Russians in the stairwell outside the room he was in.
The Nazi didn't even notice as the crystal in his trembling hands glowed more brightly and sparks of purple electricity started to crackle off the smooth surface. At that moment, he felt a sudden drowsiness and he slowly fell forward. Before he even hit the ground however, he disappeared in a violet flash of light.
As soon as the light faded, the door to the room burst open and the Soviet soldiers stormed in with their weapons at the ready. They lowered their various rifles and sub-machine guns however and looked around in confusion, wondering where the sniper went.
I would like to thank Zach the Fire Dragon for helping with the German translations, and TheWinterGhost for his help with the Russian translations and alphabet.