Author's Note: Hope people weren't starved for a new chapter, because it's here! So how's about reading and reviewing? Thanks again to the kind anon who apparently has been following me a long time. Of course, I should tell you that the last story In the Face of Evil will be revamped completely. Chances are good I might take down the old version before finally uploading the revised version. So without further ado, sit back and enjoy. As always I enjoy any reviews people give.
Chapter Six
June 6th, 1944
Somewhere in Normandy, France
Morning was fast approaching as Jacques led the partisans through a small woodlot. The night had been long for all of them as they aided and guided the American paratroopers towards their objectives. Securing farmhouses, blocking roadways and clearing German barracks were regular orders of the night. The Americans regularly provided them with some much needed weaponry, as securing German arms was difficult in the months leading up to the invasion. While the paratroopers secured their objectives, the French partisans went after their own.
One of the highway exits leading to the beaches, unnoticed by the Americans, had a German heavy artillery battery with a range reaching the landing zones. If it was not knocked out by the time the landings began, a fiery hell would rain down on the Allied troops. For the invasion to succeed, this emplacement had to be knocked out and the guns silenced. So it was that Jacques, Charles, Ray, and about 20 other partisans from their motley crew crossed through the trees and approached a clearing.
The emplacement was made up of three field pieces covered by camouflage netting, each lobbing large shells towards the beaches. Connecting the guns were a network of trenches, where German gunners ran between the pieces, dictating fields of fire and adjustment of projection angles. On the far side of the first gun was a machine gun crew, aimed in their direction. Apparently, the Germans were waiting and expecting an attack. Further behind the guns and past a hedgerow was a large manor, where Jacques assumed more Germans were waiting. If this attack was to be successful, it would not be enough to kill the gun crews. They would have to destroy the guns themselves.
While their band of freedom fighters was small, it was large enough that Jacques needed to delegate authority to others to maintain a cohesive command. The unit was divided into two sections which was further divided into two squads. One squad served as a base of fire, while the other carried out assault and close-quarters combat. Jacques, along with being overall commander, also led First Section while a close friend from the village, Henri LaRoche, commanded Second Section.
Jacques confided with Henri at the edge of the woodlot, spying the German guns from a distance.
"I'll take out MG crew," he whispered, "while you'll go for the cannon. Remember, throw grenades first before you clear. It'll be much faster."
"And the other guns?" Henri asked, wiping his brown hair aside and tucking it under his beret.
"We can use the trenches to cover our approach. We have to move fast before those guns kill too many troops."
At that, one of the cannons fired another round. Jacques checked his watch. It was 8 o'clock in the morning.
"Merde," he cursed. "The landings have already started. Henri, move on my signal."
Henri, dressed in an old French Army uniform from the Great War, nodded and ran to take his position with his section. It was not ten seconds after Henri rejoined his men when Jacques blew the whistle and began the attack. There was no time to prepare and weapons check. American soldiers were already landing, and they couldn't afford to waste time.
Charles and Ray attacked first, storming the machine gun pit. However the MG42 crew quickly spotted them, and shifted the gun to the hedgerow where they were hiding. The sound of the machine gun was enough to drive them back, and force them into a defensive posture. Charles struggled to find a decent target lying down, heavily suppressed by the machine gun. However Ray took it as an opportunity to flank around while the machine gun crew was distracted. Jacques joined her, and quickly circled to the right, closer to the trenches and the guns they needed to silence. Jacques quickly threw a grenade into the pit, and Ray did so as well. Both exploded on impact, sending one of the gunners flying over the wall of sandbags while another fell backwards into the pit, grenade shards blistering and bloodying his face.
Charles, now freed from the crippling suppression, dropped into the machine gun pit and took aim at one of the crew. The German was badly wounded, bleeding from the head beneath his helmet and from his left hand, but his right was reaching for an MP40. Charles took aim and pulled the trigger, but instead of a crack there was only a click.
"Oh shit…"
The German grabbed his submachine gun and Charles thought he was surely done for until 5 bullets struck the wounded enemy dead. He looked behind him and saw the smoking muzzle of Ray's MP40, as she looked on disapprovingly at him.
"When it clicks like that, mon cher," she scolded, "you have to reload!"
Charles sighed, knowing she was right. Forgetting to reload in the heat of battle was a persistent habit of his. Had Ray not been there to save him, he surely would have died. One of these days, it would cost him.
With the machine gun pit cleared, Jacques' section charged headlong towards the first gun and the trenches, unmindful of the hailstorm of bullets thrown in their direction. Henri's section supported them with an attack from the left, keeping a close distance with Jacques. Henri threw a grenade towards the gun emplacement, which immediately sent the crew running out into the open and for their lives. Charles and Ray dropped into the trench first and aimed at two fleeing Germans. Charles killed one with a single shot through the back of his chest while Ray cut down the other with a burst of fire through his abdomen, just as he turned around to fire a last shot.
Meanwhile, Sakuya took aim with her newly acquired M1 Garand at the last fleeing German. However, it was an unfamiliar weapon to handle, and try as she might, she just could not score a hit. One shot was followed by two, then three, and two more. Finally one of the older veterans of the section grew frustrated Sakuya's apparent lack of skill.
"Oh, pour l'amour de Dieu1!"
He jumped up from the trench and fired his Thompson submachine gun into the back of the retreating German, killing him with seven bullets. He publicly rebuked Sakuya as he went past her, loud enough for all to hear.
"Fucking Jap! Learn to aim straight!"
Sakuya scowled as she reloaded her rifle. Even though she had been with the Resistance for so long and had proven her worth, there were those who still distrusted her for her Japanese origins. She turned to the right hoping to smack the veteran upside the head with her rifle stock, but spotted another German reeling his arm back with a stick hand grenade. Thinking quickly, she shot the German through the heart, but she wasn't quick enough and the grenade was tossed into the trench.
"EVERYONE, SCATTER!"
The whole section followed her advice and fled from the blast radius of the grenade. She took shelter with Charles and Ray next to the gun just as it detonated, sending shards everywhere. The veteran who rebuked her before fell forward as he caught shrapnel in the back of his legs. He writhed in pain while Jacques called to Henri's section for their next orders.
"Henri, Jean, Stephane, secure that gun!"
The three men brought up explosive charges and began to set them on the barrel and breech of the gun while Jacques readied his section for another assault, this time through the trenches to the second gun. Charles readied a grenade for priming while Ray reloaded her MP40. Sakuya sighted targets on the next gun, jumping in surprise whenever it was fired. The noise alone was deafening.
"Remember, my friends," Jacques reminded them. "Throw grenades first, then clear."
At that moment a large boom was heard from behind them, and they looked to see the barrel of the artillery piece snapped in half like a twig from the explosives. Jacques smiled, and signaled his approval to Henri with a thumbs-up. For them, that was their signal to move, as Henri's section laid down suppressive fire on the second gun. Jacques, Charles, Ray, Sakuya and the remainder of his section advanced through the trenches, determined to silence the guns and ensure the invasion's success. Charles lobbed a grenade towards the emplacement, which, since he waited a few seconds before throwing, detonated on impact. The blast sent one German careening out of the dugout and onto the grassy fields outside, while those who remained tried in vain to stop the French advance.
Jacques cut down a German gunner with his newly acquired M1A1 Carbine, just as he reached for a sidearm. Sakuya was quick with her kill, slicing another gunner's throat with her combat knife. All others in the section were surprised at how deadly and effective she was in combat, despite her meek outward appearance. Looks had a way of being deceiving. The last gunner attempted to surrender, but every time the partisans tried to speak to him, he would continue to shout the same words.
"Nicht schiessen! Ich ergebe mich! Ich ergebe mich!2"
Finally, tired of the constant screaming from this clueless German, Ray threw a punch across his cheek, sending him falling backwards onto the dirt. She then screamed back words she knew he could understand:
"Setz dich hin und halt die Schauze3."
Sakuya sat with their captured enemy while Henri brought up the next round of explosives. Jacques called to his attention the German defenses, which were now in complete disarray while his men readied the charges. From the hedgerow on the other side of the green fields, a wall of fire was being laid down by German machine guns. In addition to firing at them (causing them to duck down with every hiss of a passing bullet), they were also firing on the third and final field piece, still in German control. This was made evident by the frantic waving of hands from the emplacement and calls of "Nein! Nein!" This was a boon for them.
"We must be doing something right," Jacques proclaimed. "We've got them so confused they're firing on the last gun."
"Then we should assault it, before they figure out what's happening," Henri suggested. "Mind if I take the last one?"
"Be my guest."
Henri smiled, just as his men called for all to cover their ears and get behind something. All the partisans did so, and awaited the explosion that followed.
BOOM!
Just as before, all that was left was a ruined barrel, blasted in two and rendered unusable. Victory was in their grasp. One more push, and the success of the landings was assured. Thousands of lives would be saved by them! Jacques ordered First Section to provide covering fire for Henri and his men as Henri led Second Section in a bayonet charge through the trenches and towards the last gun.
It was to be their last glimpse of Henri.
For within seconds of reaching the gun, Henri jumped out of the trench to gain a better firing position. He sprayed his Thompson submachine gun into the dugout as Germans tried to fight back against the attack that was inevitable. One German, hesitant to abandon his post and leave the last gun at the mercy of the French, fired his Luger pistol at Henri.
Once.
A shot whizzed by Henri's head. Henri reciprocated with three well-placed shots to the German's chest.
Twice.
As the German fell backwards in pain, a single shot connected with Henri's chest, staining his blue overcoat red and kicking up dust and dirt.
Three times.
The final shot fell on his lung, and Henri fell forward into the dirt.
Henri's comrades opened fire and killed the remaining German crewmen, even those who tried to flee for the hedgerow. The gunfire slackened and soon all that was left was the distant buzz of a machinegun on the other side of the field. Despite the risk of leaving the trench, Jacques ran for Henri's body, ignoring the calls of Charles and Ray to stay and leave him. No, he couldn't die! Not when the hour of deliverance was finally upon them! Not when the great liberation had begun!
Avoiding the machinegun fire, Jacques leapt out of the trench and ran for Henri as Second Section readied the charges to blow. Victory was at hand. Why did he have to die now?!
The wounds were near fatal, and the red splotch on his blue coat grew larger with each passing second. Jacques tried his best to put pressure on both with his hands, bloodying them with the damning liquid, but every ragged breath, every slowing pulse was another herald for a death he could not afford now.
"Merde…" Henri whispered. "Just when I thought this was the start of something…"
"It is, mon ami!" Jacques said back frantically. "Our day of deliverance is here! We can strike back at the Germans now, as we always wanted!"
"Oui…but I can't be there now…it's too bad."
"Don't talk like that, Henri! I'll fix you up myself! We'll take back our country together!"
Henri reached out a weak hand to Jacques, and placed it on his shoulder.
"You must promise me that you will keep fighting. And never stop until you reach Paris. Free this country."
Jacques suppressed a tear in his eye and nodded firmly.
"But of course. We're not stopping until we reach the gates of Paris."
Henri exhaled slowly and his pulse faded, just as his head fell to one side. A faithful friend, a reliable officer, and a dependable soldier was extinguished as the explosives went off, destroying the last gun. Another casualty in their ongoing crusade for freedom. More fuel that stoked a seemingly endless war.
Jacques looked up to the sky, hidden behind the shade of cypresses. It was one thing to command troops and fight a war, but quite another to endure the costs that came with it. Within this victory hid a greater problem; how to replace him, and continue the fight unabated.
"Renton, mon cher ami," he whispered to no one in particular, "where on earth are you?"
»»»»»
June 9th, 1944
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean
It took a mere day and a half for the troupe of young people to cross the country and reach New York. Through a stroke of luck, Lieutenant Denisov and his platoon of militiamen vouched their way into a troopship bound for France. Even as their train sprinted on the spurs of track that stitched their nation together, news of the invasion flooded them all.
The landings in Normandy were successful, mostly. There was only stiff resistance outside the city of Caen and one of the American landing beaches, known as Omaha. Paratrooper operations had proved critical to the success of the landings, knocking out key German strongholds along the roadways from the beaches, allowing armor, supplies and men to come ashore and move inland. Best of all, the invasion achieved complete surprise, as the Germans never expected an Allied landing in Normandy, where the English Channel was at its widest. The Germans' reserve Panzer divisions were still stationed at the Pas-de-Calais, in anticipation of an attack that would never come.
For Renton, his mind was solely fixated on finding Jacques and learning what could be done for him. Regularly in letters to him and his friends Charles and Ray, he offered his assistance in whatever means necessary. Always, however, they wrote back the time for help was not yet. But Normandy changed everything.
Accommodations on a troopship were sparse, since they were travelling with hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers bound for the same place. Finding spare cabins was almost unheard of in wartime travel, but by some grace of God, they got not just one, but two. Both were small spaces, forming perfect squares with only one porthole each, looking out to the open seas. They were usually accompanied by the sound of waves crashing on the ship's hull and the gentle rock that came transcontinental travel. Renton, Eureka, and Holland, having all traveled by sea before, grew accustomed to it quickly, while Dominic and Anemone, having never ventured far their homes, were rendered immobile and physical ill for the first day.
Dominic, having had a rough night thanks to the droning of the ship's engines right below him, awoke drowsily to the sight of the undercarriage of Anemone's bunk. Maybe sleeping on the bottom was a blessing, he thought, since it lessened the rocking feeling that made his stomach turn.
He turned slightly to the right, and saw a touch of red. Not blood red, but fiery. Then two eyes of amethyst sprouted from the edge of the bunk. They stared at him mischievously but also longingly. He didn't have to guess who they belonged to.
"Good morning to you too, Anemone."
"It is afternoon, actually," she corrected with a giggle.
She jumped down from the top bunk, wearing a beautiful white nightgown with puffy sleeves, a short frilled hem, and a plunging neckline. Even while travelling, Anemone always tried to be fashionable and feminine. Though Dominic wondered if she would be able to maintain the visage of a lady amidst the smoke and chaos of a battlefield. Even though he ostensibly agreed to her coming with him, he still had his doubts. With all her fiery spirit and strength, would it be enough for her to survive?
"Where's Renton?" he asked casually.
"In the mess hall, with Eureka. Though I think they're a bit more interested in each other than in food," she said, smiling.
"What about Renton's other friend? That Russian guy…what's his name…Holland?"
"He's gone to the lower decks. Said he was meeting a friend in the militia."
"So…we're on our own, I guess."
"Seems that way."
Anemone twirled around to face him as he sat up from his bunk. She was a beautiful and strong woman. But would it be enough for her in the storm to come? In the face of such a daunting and foreboding question, Dominic tried to muster a smile to his lover of three years, but it was far too easy for Anemone to notice that something was off about him. She could see it in his gunmetal grey eyes.
"You don't look so good, Dommy. Is something wrong?"
At that thought, Dominic heard his stomach churn. He rubbed it in an attempt to settle it down.
"I guess I'm still not used to this kind of trip."
"Still seasick, huh?"
"Yeah…"
Dominic covered his mouth with one hand. He would hate to lose control of his senses all over her, and potentially face a strong reprimand from her afterwards. Anemone was known to be excitable and feisty, even with him.
"But that's not all…"
"What else is there?" Anemone asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion.
"I'm…worried about what we're getting into. What it will do to us…especially you."
"And?"
"I still think," Dominic struggled, feeling the nausea pass slowly, "it's a bad idea for you to come with me."
"Honey," Anemone returned with a soft scowl, "we already talked about this before we left home."
"I know that, but I'm still really worried! I've had training for this! I've learned what it means to be a soldier, but neither of us have a damn clue what's out there. Even if we manage to win this round, how much will it cost us? How much will it take to strike the decisive blow?"
He stood up, and gunmetal grey eyes connected with amethyst ones in a concerned gaze. The kind one would see from a father, a brother.
"We could be gone for months, Anemone. Maybe even years. What will happen to all of us in that time? What if…I lose you?"
Anemone closed her eyes and sighed. It was something she ought to expect from him. Even before they became an item and were simple classmates and friends, he always was protective of her. To add to it, she tended to be possessive of him, even when they were simple and unassuming children in preschool. She walked towards him, each step bringing her closer to a promise she made to him, and to herself, long before she set foot on the gangways to the troopship. Before long, she was a hair's breadth away, and not even the hum of the engines could drown out her words, as she rested her delicate hands on his broad shoulders.
"Dominic Edmund Sorel," she said with the resolution of a soldier whose battle was won, "We're not going to die. I'm not going to die. We're going to survive this together, so stop thinking about those questions. We're not even in France yet, and you're already losing hope? That's not the man I fell in love with!"
She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the roughness of emery paper. Before they went ashore, he needed to shave.
"Just calm down, and stay positive. Please? For me?"
With a gentle kiss to the lips, he no longer felt in despair. In that moment, Dominic remembered how often he looked to her for a word of advice or just a pillar of support. How like her. Even in moments of hopelessness and disconnect, she helped him back up. When he doubted Renton's chance for survival, she told him to stay the course. When he felt in need of direction, she guided him. Even for all her fiery temperament, he would still be nowhere without her.
"Thanks, baby," he said quietly, trying to restrain tears from being seen. "You're right. I need to stop thinking those negative thoughts. Still, I can't help but feel scared."
"I'm scared too, Dom. We wouldn't be normal people if we weren't. But we can't go through our lives living in total fear, either. Neither of us would be happy like that."
Just like her beau, Anemone didn't know what was in store for them, either. With another, slightly more passionate kiss, all the possibilities of what awaited them zipped through her consciousness with the speed of a bullet. They were entering a warzone, but perhaps Renton's friends would ensure their safety. What were his friends like? If his travels to Europe and the Soviet Union earned the love of Eureka, Anemone could only imagine what connections he made in France. The prospects were bright as well as daunting, hopeful as well as dismal. Just like him, she was afraid. But she didn't let him see it, instead seeking a way to keep spirits high.
"Why don't we go out for a walk on deck?" she whispered softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "We could use the fresh air."
"I wouldn't mind it at all, actually. But first, we should get dressed."
The two lovers obliged, and quickly took their turns in changing. Anemone took much longer with her bath and her dressing. It was the one thing Dominic wished she could be faster at, but it was not enough to cause them to come to blows. Secretly, it was a way of teasing for Anemone. The agony of waiting only made their small reunion minutes later all the sweeter, and she usually wore something stylish to entice him further.
Three quarters of an hour later, they went up on deck. Anemone, being the diva she always was, wore a stunningly fancy pink sundress with puffy frilled sleeves. The hemline was trimmed with a lacy floral pattern while her neckline was shaped in a curved V, like the lower half of a Valentine heart. Around her neck was a gold choker necklace that matched her hair barrette, adorned with a white butterfly. Completing her wardrobe was a pair of high-heeled white sandals, decorated with a floral ornament on the buckle. She even wore mascara on her eyelashes and a small hint of rouge on her cheeks.
Dominic dressed more plainly and utilitarian, wearing a light blue dress shirt with rolled up sleeves tucked into black slacks, supported by red suspenders. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing an undershirt that, while failing to suppress the summer heat, hid his bare chest from her view. His shoes were plain black loafers, tied up neatly as if ready for the first day of school. It was an outfit he knew he would have few chances to wear once the fighting began, but in this moment of calm, the moment before they would charge into the hellfire that was war, he wanted to look more like the man Anemone loved, and not the soldier he had long trained and prepared to be.
Their seasickness had obviously left them both so ill that by the time they felt the strength to come on deck, it was near dusk. Sunset had colored the sky with an aggressive orange tint. To the stern of the ship, the sun sank slowly beneath the glassy sea. The oceans were surprisingly calmer today, despite the rocky waves they weathered yesterday. A stiff breeze swirled around the decks, sending Anemone's fiery red hair into a frenzy. It bothered neither her, however, nor Dominic. If they were going to war, they would need clear heads and focused minds. They needed the fresh air.
Dominic, for all his physical illness and the unease he felt before braving this storm, had nearly forgotten how beautiful Anemone was with the sunset illuminating her porcelain skin and the wind sifting through her mane. Every inch of her radiated perfection as his gunmetal grey eyes traveled down her body. She was beautiful in every possible way; her excitable demeanor, her loving and entwining words, her impeccable sense of fashion, even…
As his thoughts drifted, the skirt of her sundress floated in the wind, occasionally rising to show more of her shapely legs. Even the parts she kept concealed from him were enticing. Suddenly, however, a rogue wind flew by the two, and sought to expose all she intended to hide.
Her skirt violently flipped up, almost slapping her in the face. Dominic blinked once, and then twice, as he heard her shriek.
Yellow. With a hint of white.
Anemone pushed her dress back down as quickly as it came up, and her face was almost painted scarlet, staring at Dominic intently…almost menacingly.
"You better not have seen anything," she scolded, glaring, "or you'll be the first casualty!"
Dominic shook his head violently to avoid a beating. Even with him, her temper knew no bounds, and he was not prepared to be subject to it so soon after she started to make him feel more like himself.
Anemone, seemingly satisfied, spun around and looked out to the ocean, secretly smirking. In truth, even if everything was spoiled, she wouldn't have minded it much, if it was him. As Dominic came near her, another, more gentle breeze whistled by and whispered in her ear. It seemed to carry to her the words she thought could end the day (what little day they had from seasickness, she thought) on a more positive and loving note.
"Dom?"
"Hm?"
Anemone looked to him, and sporting a wide grin, said,
"Le vent se lève4!"
She hoped he would understand, as she intended to be poetic. Dominic, having studied some French with her in school, took the liberty of finishing the phrase with her.
"Il faut tenter de vivre5!" he finished proudly, taking the Irish girl's hand in his.
"So do you feel better now?"
"Well…I certainly don't feel seasick anymore."
The young couple laughed at that, and the mood was brightened. Anemone and Dominic knew they were going to be alright. They still had a long road ahead of them, but they would weather this storm. Many trials and tribulations lay ahead for them. They may be broken. They may be bruised. But they would not be beaten. Their consolation was they were walking down that road together, with their friends and comrades beside them.
1 Oh, for the love of God!
2 Don't shoot! I surrender! I surrender!
3 Sit down and shut up.
4 The wind rises!
5 We must endeavor to live!