Anyway, its been a while huh? Well MERRY CHRISTMAS! Happy Holidays and all that Jazz. I hope you don't mind me cutting this chapter short, I was going to do the whole Market Garden chapter in one but decided you all deserve a little something. So I hope you enjoy it. I love y'all!
Falling was an interesting sensation. By interesting I mean horrifying. My stomach felt as if it was rushing past my brain. Air was getting trapped under my helmet and made my neck stretch in the most uncomfortable way. I don't know how long it took for my chute to deploy but I swear I saw my life flash twice before it did. My parachute opened with a snap and my shoulders burned as it yanked me too a halt. I floated down, admits a picturesque blue sky. Laughter spilled from my mouth and disappeared in the cool September air.
I touched ground awkwardly. My right foot landing before my left and giving way. Pain shot though my nerves and my awkward laughter stopped. Wind dragged me along the ground when it caught in my chute. With a lot of flailing I managed to smack the cute down so it wouldn't trap wind. Disheveled with flushed cheeks I rolled up the cloth and shoved it into the pouch. I pulled off the harness, grabbed my gun and lurched to my feet. Pain drove needles into my ankle and I swore as I took a testing step. I grimaced and straitened my helmet trying to play off my discomfort.
I took another step and winced, hoping it would dull as I moved. I tried to keep my gait as level as possible and worked my way to the tree line. Buck was there already with a few others.
Men were separating into squads and a few medics rushed around making sure everyone was alright. I stood near Compton resting most of my weight on my left leg. My right was awash in a sort of numb irritation. Adrenalin must be blocking the worst of it. I sighed. I had experience in this kind of injury I knew it was going to get worse.
As a company we moved towards Eindhoven, planes blasted over our heads as we waited in a road side ditch. Men moved about returning with small items or news. I sat next to Buck, Joe, and Bill waiting for the orders to move. The conversation was forcibly light and a few jokes were spread around. The three men laughed quietly over some joke and I chuckled along trying to figure out what was so funny. Finally I decided it was just too 1940's specialized for me to understand. It was like telling a 'Yo Momma' to Shakespeare.
"There's a bit of a hold up on that road there. We're going to enter through that field." A runner said as he knelt down beside us. He pointed over the road, towards a field of long golden wheat. He jumped up and moved down the line, telling officers and noncoms as he went.
Buck glanced down at his watch then at the men, when their attention was gathered he jerked his arm forward. In a mass we ran through the wheat in a half crouch. Each step sent rugged jolts of pain up my nerves. I clenched my teeth and limped forward.
It seemed odd that there no mortars were fired our way,nor a German's version of a banzai attack. It was quiet, only the sound of the wheat rubbing against our bodies. We crossed a field of choppy mud and saw the silent town. I knelt down against a fence post and rested my rifle across my leg. In the windows there was movement. Shutters were flung open, glass was removed and orange was hung from the wood work. The Dutch flew their national colors.
Music played on the corners and a few songs drifted from open windows. People danced in the streets waving orange cloth above their heads in a wild interpretation of the 'jump on it' dance. Women screamed, children laughed, the men whooped with joy. A woman's hand grabbed for me and she showered kisses upon my cheeks. I kissed hers feeling oddly like a cousin from the Godfather. I gave her a smile and took the offered snack. I shoved it in my mouth and chewed. The other men were given similar treatment. They were kissed by men, women and children. Food was given from families. It was insane riot. A few officers tried to keep order but their words were lost in the crowd.
I smiled and shook people's hand, kissed peoples cheeks. In the confusion I shook a few of the Americans too.
"Don't you LOVE HOLLAND!" Malarkey screamed in my ear. A blond woman in her early twenties flung her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me to her busty chest hard. I blushed furiously as I returned the hug. I don't think I've felt so loved in my entire life. I saw Lt. Speirs holding onto a light post, waving his hand forward as he yelled. "KEEP MOVING!"
Buck elbowed his way through the crowd towards the corner. Over the woman's shoulder I saw Captain Winters, Nixon, and Welsh. Buck joined them and I was swept away. The young woman put her arm through mine and spoke in rapid succession. I just smiled and she laughed before pulling me towards the sidewalks. She paraded me past some other women her age whose arms wrapped around their own Easy Boys. They smiled at each other and catcalled. I grinned. It's funny my friends and I would do the same thing when we had our boyfriends with us. Girls are girls, no matter where you are.
I limped beside the young woman teeth clenched to keep from grimacing. She walked purposefully ahead holding my hand in a tight grip. She spoke rapidly with joy evident in her voice and would gaze adoringly my way every so often. She led me to a red wood house and we stopped before the pine door. She released my hand and pointed to the ground firmly. It was an obvious order. Do NOT Move. She opened the door and disappeared inside. A few moments later she reappeared, holding two beer bottles and a rectangular scrap of paper. She handed me the two bottles and gazed at the palm sized piece of paper before handing it over too. It was a small picture of her, taken a few years earlier. Her hair was longer and arranged in ornate curls. She took my free hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Mijn naam is Katrien."
"Katrien." I repeated trying to fix her name to her face. I gave her hand a squeeze and smiled as brightly as I could. "My name is Fey." I saw no reason in giving her my alias. We would be gone soon, especially is Speirs keeps up that glaring.
She winked and kissed my cheeks. "Bedankt Fey." She struggled slightly with my name. "Tot ziens." She kissed my cheeks one last time and she disappeared into the crowd.
"What did she say?" A voice suddenly asked. Startled, I turned and saw Eugene.
"She said goodbye…in Dutch." I glanced at the picture and slid it into my pocket. I glanced up at him from under my bangs; my cheeks still a bright red. His hair was ruffled and he had red rings on his cheeks from kisses. He stared back at me for a moment before nodding.
He clapped my shoulder."You're right." He said, "Sarge says to keep moving. Let's go." He turned to go and I limped after him.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
It was night; we were camped in field, a farmhouse a quarter mile down the line, and trees that sprang up in groves. . The stars were bright and I had a perfect view, stretched out on the grass staring up at them, my right foot in Eugene's lap. "You should have told me about this earlier!" He repeated for the umpteenth time. I muttered the same apology I had used previously and tried to find Orion. No luck. A few guys walked past us, calling their hellos before disappearing behind the tree line. A few minutes later Doc slid my foot off his lap and pulled me up into a seated position.
"My best guess is that you have a crack in your Tarsus." He looked at me trying to figure out if I knew what a Tarsus was. I didn't." It's your ankle bone Fey. I don't think the crack is too deep so you should be able to stay on the line. Your ankle will swell if you've been on it to long, and your going to get some pain." He looked into my eyes, as if he were trying to read my soul. "If it gets worse I'm sending you out."
I gave him a sarcastic salute. "Alright Mother."
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
The next morning we drove through fields of flowers. The tanks we rode on breaking the serene scene with their loud screeching movements. Tall golden grass swayed in the breeze and tall telephone poles stretched on the side of the road. I bent around one of the men to get a look at a road sign, Nuenen. I sighed as I leaned against Joe Toye's Legs. "I always hate this part. So boring."
"Its better then getting shot at." Joe replied rapping me on top of the head.
"Well you can't have everything." The tank came to a stop suddenly and I could just see figure walking out past our convoy. The soldier came to a stop in the middle of the road and looked around at the village to our right.
"LIEUTENANT!" The man turned jerked and fell. A gunshot echoed over the field. Men began to yell as they pointed to a halftrack, the tanks roared, medics rushed, and soldiers disembarked. We fled into a road side ditch as the tanks fired.
The medic, who was helping the Lt, fell, a bullet through the hip. I gripped my rifle tight. Please don't let it be Gene. Please not Gene.
"MOVE! MOVE YOUR STATIONARY TARGETS!" Babe roared in my ear. I leapt to my feet, faltering slightly as my ankle gave way, I caught my self raised my rifle and fired at the fleeting forms of the Germans. My bullet struck dirt, sending a chunk of turf into the air. Another mans shot was true. I continued to run, trying to keep up with the taller, faster, men. I fell in behind Joe, resting against a stone wall, another man was with us, a recruit I didn't know.
"We're going to the left, Russo your first." I nodded and switched places with the recruit. I peered around the edge of the building, and flashed over the back yard. Then the neighbor's house, I double checked the windows. Holding up my hand I flashed a thumb up and sprinted across the lot, I slid in behind a low stone wall and crawled my way down to where it met at the corners. The other men followed my lead, playing our demented version of Follow the Leader. A quick check to make sure all was clear and I was one the move again, I jumped over the wall and scrambled behind the shed. I peaked around the corner and saw sunlight gleaming off the tops of American helmets. I turned back to Joe.
"There's half a platoon over that brick wall out there. One of ours... Buck's I think."
Joe nodded. "Let them know we're here. Then we'll wait." Once again I moved past the wall, waved, called the signal. A string of bullets pounded into the dirt around me. I leapt back crashing into Joe.
"Holy SHIT!" I blurted.
Joe's words were a bit more… choice then mine. We struggled away from one another, righting our helmets, and swearing under our breath.
"Where the hell did those come from?!" Joe hissed.
"Our freaking men!" I growled. "Trust them to try and blow my damn leg off!"
The loud rumblings of tank cut off what ever Joe was going to say next. The noise stopped behind us and I peeked around the wall to see what was going on. There were two tanks and both had halted in the middle of the street. An American soldier had jumped up on the tank was talking to the lead observer, pointing down the road, closer to our position. The soldier jumped off made some angry gestures and the tanks rolled on. I squinted at the rows off stone houses that flanked the Sherman's side. I couldn't see much past the corner house only some piles of hay.
There was a large crash and smoke billowed out from one of the hay piles. The second tank, an English Cromwell, shattered, smoke fireballed from its wrecked corpse.
"COME ON!" Joe yelled grabbing the recruit and shoving him forward. We ran towards the wall joining the mass of fleeing men. . The German Panzer pulled out of its hiding spot, shedding flakes of hay as it went. It released another shell with a terrifying boom. It crashed into a building. Bricks, plaster, and dust scattered into the air and slammed into the ground with terrifying effects.
I lost contact with Joe in the mess. I scrambled forward with fear in my heart, clutching my M-1 to my chest. Machine Gun bullets danced around our bodies, blowing holes into the cobblestone walks. My breath was coming in agonizing gasps and my muscles burned with the strain of movement. I knew I was slowing, the men were buzzing by me now. A burst of bullets hit the around me.
There was the road out of town. I could see fleeting scours of olive drab. I tried to run faster but my body wasn't up to it. The German tank had entered the town square and another appeared on the side road. Their guns were continually blazing.
Large quantities of rock and dirt were shoveled into the air when the shells hit. Shrapnel flew in all directions. I knew couldn't reach the men before the tanks cut me off, effectively herding like a cattle dog. I jerked around and struggled back to the village. The building on the corner seemed like a good enough choice. I slammed my foot against the door and disappeared inside.
I knew you were supposed grenade it first, but I couldn't take the chance of catching my own men. With my gun at the ready I made a quick search of the main floor; finding nothing but stale bread I crept upstairs. There were only two doors up stairs, both were closed. Pressing my ear against the doors I struggled to hear. The fighting outside was too vicious. I pulled one open and looked inside. Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse, and it looked as if no one had been here for a long long time. I crept up to the window and glanced outside. The square was awash with German troops. Carefully I pushed the window open and propped my rifle against the ledge.
I let out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. My eyes darted around the square, searching, all the while my mind was reeling. This would be my third time trying to kill. Have I even made the shot before, killed a man by my own power?
I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to focus. I opened them slowly and adjusted my position. I chose a soldier, a man with a radio on his back, and followed him waiting for a good shot. My heart was in my throat. Did I really want to do this?
I squeezed the trigger.
The soldier fell, and writhed on the ground, hands clasped on his abdomen. Two men rushed for him and pulled him away. They left a streak of blood on the cobble stones. The square erupted.
Bile rose inside me and retched. Sick and conflicted I whipped my mouth and scooted away from the mess. Drearily I grabbed my gun and stumbled down the stairs knowing full well I would only encounter an enraged enemy.
I glanced outside and weighed my options. Strait would take me back to the platoon, but the change of making it there were slim, a quick hop to the right and I'd hit the square, if I went that way I'd get my head blown off. I really only had one option. Go left, try and hook up with a different platoon that still resided in the town.
To say the obvious, I went left. I ran past bodies glistening in their uniforms, a mixed handful of color. Death had a different color that day, it was green. I stumbled past alleyways that were silent as the grave; I didn't even bother to look, for it seemed only the rooftops supported life. I heard snipers and machine gunners, and mortar men, all firing in towards the town. Morbidity was on my mind, so I ran and I ran. Run Forest Run.
I never was the fittest person, so the short burst of energy I had before was gone before I knew it. But I was closer to the fighting. I turned the corner and BAM I was in it. Only I was on the wrong side. A squad of Germans had their back to me and were shooting at a group of Americana. My body reacted before my mind realized what had happened. The pin yanked from a grenade, the hand bomb launched, and I moved with it spiraling back behind the corner to await the explosion.
I walked around the corner and shifted through the dust. The German bodies lay in piles by my feet. I called out the password and ventured towards the line.
The group of Americans were all recruits, separated from their sergeant. They stared at me with wide eyes.
"What's your company?" I asked gruffly.
"Dog sir. Our Sarge got shot."
I remembered the talks back when I was Buck's shadow. "You're under Speirs?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Where are the others?"
"Back that way." Their leader pointed down the street, closer to the edge of town.
"Alright. Follow me." I swore darkly, I was no person to be in this position; I was horrible in groups, anything but the leader type. To impersonal, to involved in my well being. I zig zaged my way down to the next street and waited for the others to catch up. I glanced around and darted. I was uneasy. We had been too long without encountering some kind of resistance; this area should have been loaded with troops. We made it to the next intersection before I heard noises that really made me worry. It was a four way cross, the road strait ahead was blocked, a house had crumbled during the fight. The two remaining sides were trading bullets, the Germans to the left, and our boys to the right. I had a feeling we had found Buck. There was a tank on the German side, slowly making its way toward us.
It was then the Germans noticed us.