Saint – Lo A Soldier's Story
Edward Cullen
The smell was acrid, the stench of death all around. The air was thick with smoke and rain. The noise deafening. This was what all the hype was about? The filth, the death and destruction. I was promised a glorious war. The recruitment posters lied, this was anything but glorious. This was a living hell. Thinking back to my childhood, when all I wanted to do was enlist and join my elders who'd went off to fight in the Great War, I shuddered involuntarily. That was in the days before the Spanish Influenza had taken my parents and changed the course of my life. Well I suppose life wasn't the right term. I didn't have a life, I had an existence of sorts. And here, in a field, somewhere in the middle of France, well this wasn't even that. This was an endurance at best.
I hadn't been forced to enlist, in fact, if anything my new parents, especially my mother, Esme, had been dead against the idea. But I'd felt cheated. I hadn't lived long enough to enlist in the Great War, so when we'd joined forces with the allies after the attack on Pearl Harbour, I'd taken the chance to correct things so to speak. Never in my wildest dreams could I have possibly imagined the scale of this deprivation.
Part of me, a large part, just wanted to get the hell out of here. Get back home to the comforts afforded to us by our family's combined abilities. It's not like I'd be caught, no one would even see me leave, but I'd made a commitment to the United States Army and I was never one to renege on a promise. It wasn't like a bullet or bayonet was likely to take me out. So many of my comrades had fallen. I'd lost count of our friends bodies I'd buried, it seemed to get worse with each offensive. I'd earned myself the nickname of Silky. Everything glided off me or past me the boys said. Little did they know. I'd endured thirst like never before whilst carrying injured friends to the medics. Livestock was few and far between and I wasn't able to hunt as often as I'd like. I knew I was depressed. The fear and dread I heard in my fellow soldiers thoughts were taking there toll. It was dark now. As usual nightfall brought with it heightened terror, every man wondering if he would see another dawn. Notes to sweethearts were scribbled, just in case, promises to each other to visit the bereaved should the worst come to pass.
I'd lost track of the date. All I knew was that it was summer, July, I thought, 1944 and my division the 29th Infantry were about to attempt to liberate St Lo in the region of Normandy. There were rumours abound that this action had to be taken to allow the British troops a better chance of succeeding in their planned storming of the province. The last few days had been quiet. Plans were being made by those in high places, the quiet and lack of action only added to the dread and fear of the men. They had no idea what would come next, neither did I for that matter. I was frightened, even though I had no reason to be.
In a rare moment of quiet I thought back to the arguments in the days leading to me signing up.
"Edward, you don't have to do this." Carlisle assured me. "Esme is distraught at the thought of you going to those foreign shores and she's terrified that if you are unable to feed as we normally do, then you'll give in to temptation and feed from our natural food source."
"That won't happen, Carlisle." I promised. "I can do this, I want to." I explained.
I found an ally in an unexpected place.
"I think he's right. I'm up for a fight against the Nazi's and the Japs too." Emmett bellowed. "Bring it on, I say," he enthused.
"Oh no you don't." Rose ranted, shocked at her partner's admission. "Over my pile of burning ashes, you are staying right here. This is not our fight."
Of course Rosalie's speech had no consequence to Emmett whatsoever, except to re-affirm his intention to join up with me. That hadn't made me popular in her book at all. According to my sister it was my fault that Emmett was now going to war and leaving her all alone. I'd experienced her wrath before, but never to this extent. She hissed and spat at me every chance she got.
Rose's raging and Esme's begging didn't work. So in the winter of 1942 my brother and I signed up, me for the 29th Infantry Division and Emmett for the 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division. We left our home in Chicago two weeks later, much to the dismay of everyone else in our family to start our training at Fort Sheridan.
We both enjoyed basic training. We excelled of course, our vampire skills meaning we could run for ever, carrying weights that larger men struggled with, not that there were many men larger than Emmett. We took care not to draw too much attention to ourselves though, and deliberately made the odd mistake with our uniforms and kit. Those helped us fit in better with our peers.
When we joined our different regiments and left for foreign shores we weren't sure when we'd see each other again.
It had been over a year now.
~ Saint Lo ~
Edward look out... Incoming stranger...
I heard the warning in my friend Martin's head before he had time to vocalise.
A large soldier was heading in my direction. It only took me a second to establish who it was...
"Emmett, thank fuck it's you." I shouted, the rest of the men around me stared, astonished. "It's fine," I assured my comrades. "He's my brother."
"Hi bro. How the hell are you?" He asked as if nothing had changed and we were back at home.
"I'm good, well, as good as it gets in this hell-hole."I told him. "What are you doing here? Where are the rest of your regiment?"
"I came ahead of them, I was hoping I'd find you here." He replied.
Sure enough we were soon joined by more of our countrymen. All looking battle scarred and tired.
Greetings were made and introductions done. It felt good to have some support.
"You ready for the onslaught?" Emmett asked quietly.
"As any of us are." I replied.
"Can we speak privately somewhere?" my brother questioned.
I looked around, trying to find somewhere close but it was impossible. There wasn't anywhere, there were men all around us. "Let's go for a walk." I said, knowing there were few places we could go and be alone.
We walked a few hundred yards until I was pretty sure we'd go unheard.
"Oh fuck, Emmett it is so good to see you." I told my brother as I hugged him tightly. "How have you been?"
"Well it's been no picnic Eddy." He smiled. "It's good to see you too. So, can we just get this job done?"
"Do you know what the job is?" I asked, keen for more information.
"From what I've been able to overhear, our units are to merge. We need to join forces and liberate the city of Saint Lo. I gather if we manage to do that it will leave the way much clearer for the Brits to take Normandy."
"Yeah," I said. "That's what we've heard too but I'm guessing it'll be no walk in the woods. It's gonna be tough."
"Have you fed recently?" I asked. Emmett's eyes were almost pitch black, so I didn't really need to ask.
Jeez, bro did you really need to bring that subject up? I read my sibling's thoughts before he could speak.
He rolled his eyes at me.
"Come on," I said. "There's a farm just a little way to the north. I've gone there once or twice when the others sleep. If we run, they won't notice us missing."
He needed no further encouragement and we took off into the night at mind blowing speed. When we returned to our regiments, less than a half hour later, Emmett's eyes were back to the burning amber that they usually were.
"Where did you guys get to?" Martin asked. He was slightly more observant than some of my comrades and I knew that he had his suspicions about the fact that I'd never been injured in any way.
"We just needed some brother time." I told him. "It's been more than a year since we've seen each other and we've both been worried about each other."
"You don't need to worry about our Silky," Martin told Emmett. "He's bullet proof. Nothing touches him."
"Well, I'm happy to hear that," Emmett smiled back at Martin. "I wish the same could be said for all of us."
~ Saint Lo ~
The next few days passed in a blur of planning. 'H Hour' was set for 11.30am on the 24th of July. Arrangements were in place for divisional artillery to have red smoke shells mark the target area, our bombers would fly in from London and use the red smoke targets to bomb the German front lines and we would attack at ground level.
The day dawned and there was a raw nervousness in the air. We all made the usual final arrangements and promises to each other, praying that we'd never need to keep them. As usual, I promised Martin that I'd have his back. He made me swear to visit his wife, Helen, back in Pennsylvania if he didn't make it. In turn, he promised to visit Carlisle and Esme for me. It was a promise he'd never need to keep, but it made me feel better that he made it anyway.
I had a few moments with Emmett. We wished one and other luck and hugged. It was time.
Emmett left with his unit. He was part of the divisional artillery and he'd be in the front line, setting the smoke signals.
We were joined by the 119th and 120th regiments and together we'd storm the target area.
At precisely 11.30 we heard the familiar sound of our bombers, my division headed forward toward the front line.
As with every offensive it was as if all hell had broken loose. The sound of explosions and gunshot were everywhere. Strangled screams could be heard all around. I found myself in man to man combat more than once, each German soldier falling as I shot them or broke their necks quickly with my bare hands. More bombs fell from the sky and I only found out later that our own aircraft had took out twenty nine of our own men and injured fifty six more. The attack was called off. Too many of our men had been lost, killed by our own bombers. There was blood, sweat and spit everywhere. The air acrid, disgusting.
We retreated, the plan to re-commence the next day.
The attack began in exactly the same way on the 25th of July, only this time we managed to gain an advantage. Of course we lost many more men but we finally managed to breach the German front line. They retreated, beaten and battered. I looked around at the battlefield which was strewn with the bodies of my comrades and countrymen. Now it was time to try to save as many as could be saved. All around the soldiers who were unscathed searched through the moaning injured to see who, if any could be saved. I spotted my brother in the distance. He was carrying two men across his broad shoulders, his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose. I felt his pain.
"Edward," I heard a familiar voice call.
I'm dying, Edward. Please stay with me...
Martin, no, fuck no...
But, I was right. I was always right.
I knelt down beside him. Blood was pouring from a wound in his side. The venom pooled in my mouth.
"I'm not going to make it my friend." He said, clearly resigned to his certain death. "You remember what you promised?"
I nodded.
"You'll go see my Helen, tell her I died quickly. Tell her I didn't suffer."
All I could do was nod again.
"Now Edward, I want you to do what you need to do right now." He looked me straight in the eye. I was very confused.
"I know what you are Silky, now free me, feed, please, I'm begging you."
Oh Fuck, for the love of all that is holy, what the fuck...
"Please," Martin begged again. In his thoughts he was sure. He knew that he couldn't be saved and he was in a world of torturous pain. He knew his death wouldn't be quick, but instead slow and painful. As his friend, I couldn't let that happen.
I bent over him, to anyone looking I would be hugging a fallen friend and comrade.
"I will visit Helen. I promise. I'm sorry." I told him, before I broke his neck. His blood never passed my lips.
End Notes
This was a real battle but this is fanfic and it was written very quickly, so I apologise in advance for any historical errors.
The US bombers were eventually given the nickname of the dropshot boys by the Brits later due to them releasing early and killing their own men. This was a much under-rated but extremely important battle at the end of World War II. It was fought solely by the divisions above of the US army and their defeat of the Germans and Liberation of Saint Lo gave way for the 3rd Army under General Paton to breakthrough and head for Breast.
My thanks go to my father, Gavin for his emergency research on my behalf, to my pre-readers doobawrites and Ninnie_89. And finally to my awesome banner maker frozensoldier. She completely outdone herself with the banner she made for this story. It is mind blowing.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Thanks also for donating to a very deserving cause.