Arthur leapt out of the plane, spreading his arms and legs accordingly. It was dark as his body hurled itself down through the night's cold, wet air towards the land below. In the distance, he could see flashes of light shooting into the sky, and he prayed they didn't migrate his way. His count was up and he pulled his cord. The air caught his parachute and he now began his slower decent into Normandy. He held his gun close to his chest, becoming anxious to land. He looked around him and saw the other parachutes gliding down along side of him, allowing him to feel less unsure about the task he had to do.
Arthur knew that when he landed, Matthew would be with him and they'd both have a group of men to command. From their landing spot, which was near Versailles, they could start cleaning up enemy lines and if necessary, wait for the troops coming from the beaches so they could get into Paris. He didn't know how long the invasion would take, nor whether or not it would be effective at all. All he really knew was that in five hours, Alfred would be one man in the 156,000 troops landing on the beaches of Normandy. If Arthur, Matthew, and the rest of the paratroopers didn't do their best to secure a hold within enemy lines, the whole plan could go sour.
The parachutes neared the ground and Arthur prepared himself for impact. They were lucky that no Germans had spotted them like the other paratroopers only a little bit away, and better yet, they had already located at least a cluster of Germans to kill.
His feet touched the Earth and he jogged to remain upright. He could hear distant machine gun fire and the sound of his troops landing without a problem in the soiled French grass. He unhooked himself from the parachute and had a quick look around.
It was very quiet, and the silence made him uneasy. There were buildings a little way off, and he could see the dark figures of trees and shrubbery. Something wasn't right, and his stomach and brain told him so.
He turned hesitantly to the men surrounding him, Matthew being one of them.
"I don't think we're in Versailles."
He paused for a moment.
"Keep ready to fire."
Matthew nodded, finding a more comfortable hold on his gun.
They all crept along in the eerie silence, Arthur leading them. They reached a fence on the out skirts of the dark village, not a light on in sight. The Canadian crouched next to Arthur.
"This is weird. They have to be expecting something."
Arthur nodded.
"An ambush. We have to get into that town though. I have no fucking clue where we are."
Arthur turned to the men squatting behind him.
"Where the hell are my snipers?"
Two men came forward, one British and one Canadian.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you lads to scope out the village a bit. These Jerries are waiting for us, no doubt. Find them."
The men nodded, giving a dutiful, "Yes, sir," before finding a comfortable spot on the fence to rest their rifles. They placed their eyes on the telescope and began their search.
Arthur waited, wishing he could light up and smoke, but he knew better. Whoever was setting death traps in that village was going to die first.
He looked up into the sky and saw more flashes coming from over a far hill. He swallowed, hoping that the paratroopers landed somewhat safely and kill the Krauts with the machine guns.
"Sir, we found some."
Arthur scooted close to the English sniper as he pointed out all the locations.
"There's a German in the window and whole mess of them waiting down along that street. Up there, in the Churches' bell tower is a bird's nest. I've only seen one pop his head up so far."
Arthur and Matthew exchanged looks.
"Well, there isn't any easy way about this, and I'm sure there are more hiding out."
He clapped Matthew on the shoulder.
"I'll go in first, lad. I want this sniper to stay here so he can take out the bell tower and anyone else posing a threat to us. My team will split up down the roads there. I'll go to the right where all the Jerries are waiting, the other lot to the left. Then, Matthew, once we clear this whole mess out, I want you to follow. We need to find who's in charge of this lot. He probably has a radio. Otherwise, kill all of these little gits and be careful you don't kill civilians."
Matthew nodded, relaying orders to his men. Arthur waved his hand to his own soldiers and began to hurry down the small slope leading to the entrance of the village. He pressed his back against a stone wall, peering over his shoulder. It didn't appear that they had been spotted, but they had to get through the first set of buildings that had a gunman waiting in the window.
He gripped his sniper's shoulder and pointed to the German, giving him the okay to kill him. The sniper assumed position and with one shot and a considerably quiet sound, the German's head flung itself backward, causing his body to follow suit.
Arthur waited to see if any more men came up from the window. He looked back to see if he could make out Matthews soldiers, but found that he couldn't. His spirit slowly began to rise.
He motioned for his men to follow, silently splitting them up and making sure to keep the sniper with him. They made their way through the untrimmed grass to the first building. Arthur peered around the side, wishing it wasn't dark so he could use a mirror. He waved two men forward, ordering them to get to the front of the building.
"Sir."
He turned around to meet one of the soldiers face to face, speaking in a hushed voice.
"What is it?"
Arthur was lead around to the back of the building. The soldier asked him to look through the crack in the window that was closed.
Inside were two Germans, one loading a light machine gun and the other peering out one of the front windows. Arthur knew that they were going to bring to gun to the window, and when they did, his whole plan was ruined. He thought for a moment. He did have a chance in saving it; it was risky, but he had already done more dangerous things in his youth.
He mouthed orders to the men surrounding him, sending them all around the front to wait but one. He peeked through the crack again. The German was lifting the gun to bring to the window. Arthur crouched beneath it with the other man, waiting for the window to open. He kissed the barrel of his gun and felt to make sure his pistol was still with him.
The shutters opened slowly. He waited for the nose of the gun to show itself so he could make his move. If he was correct in his assumptions, the back of the gun should, in theory, go upward enough to strike the operator in the face. If not, he would hope that he was quick enough with his gun to shoot him and the other German before they could squeal too much.
The end of the gun poked itself out of the window. Arthur jumped, grabbing a hold of it and yanking down violently. The German yelled and the sound of the other's boots started across the room, beginning to shout questions and orders in German. Arthur leapt into a standing position pointing his gun into the room and firing at the first face he saw, killing the standing German. The other, now to the side of the machine gun growled as he reached forward to grab Arthur by the neck, but was shot by the other British soldier.
On the other side of the building, gun fire broke out between the two sides. Arthur climbed through the window, followed by the other soldier.
"Check upstairs for any more. I'm moving this gun to the front."
With a small grunt, Arthur picked up the gun and found a place for it at a front window. He took the butt of his gun and broke a hole in the glass, then crouched behind the machine gun. A wicked smile found it's way onto the Englishman's face as he began to mow down a group of Germans coming up the street. The other British soldiers returned fire to men shooting from windows, some of them falling out onto the streets below.
"None up stairs, sir."
"Thank you, lad."
Arthur abandoned the machine gun, but not before he removed the ammunition and threw it on the other side of the room. He threw open the door, his gun loaded and aimed. Quickly, he padded across the street, finding temporary cover in various nooks and doorways. He looked behind him and saw the familiar Canadian soldiers starting to make their rounds on the streets.
Arthur began to kick in doors and ordered his men to search every house, anxious to rid the town of Nazi rule.
"Sir!"
A British soldier presented himself to Arthur, saluting him accordingly.
"Yes?"
Arthur gave a lazy salute back, lighting a cigarette.
"We've searched nearly everywhere. We didn't find any commanding unit, but we did find a radio. Bents is translating. Apparently we're near Creil, which is on the opposite side of Paris then Versailles. Allied troops are scattered everywhere, sir."
"Shit!"
Arthur clenched his teeth and looked at his watch. The sun was beginning to rise. He looked to what he assumed to be the North.
"They should be nearing the beaches, and we don't know where the fuck we are."
Matthew approached Arthur.
"We just got word that some of our troops have fought back some more Germans in some towns nearby. We can get to Paris in a few hours if we try."
The Canadian pointed to some German military cars. Arthur smirked.
"Matthew, inform your men to find themselves some German uniforms and put them on. We'll get to Paris."
• • •
„Halt, wo willst du Männer hin?"
Arthur sat crammed in the back of one of the two cars they had stolen from the previous town they were in. He remained silent as their vehicles were stopped by German soldiers going the opposite direction. His finger tightened over the trigger of his gun, preparing himself.
The German translator driving the car answered.
„Um Paris. Unser Kader wurde von britischen Fallschirmjägern einen Hinterhalt gelockt und wir sind alles, was übrig bleibt."
Arthur closed his eyes, hoping the soldiers bought what they were trying to sell. It had been a long time since he had tried to disguise himself as the enemy.
„Ja, wir haben schon Abschuss Fallschirmjäger alle Morgen, kleine Wichser. Ich halte dich nicht, wir sind aus dem Rest von ihnen zu töten."
"Danke, Viel Glück."
The British and Canadian imposters saluted the Germans, waiting for them to climb back into their car and drive down the road. Arthur craned his neck and waited until he saw their heads. He gave the signal and the Allies opened fire, killing them all with in seconds.
„Good job, men. Now let's clear them off."
Arthur spoke in barely a whisper as they hopped out of their cars and dragged the bodies to the side of the road behind bushes and trees to conceal them.
„Just push the car into that ditch, it'll be fine."
They all got back into their stolen transportation, driving off again.
They passed some random, mangled bodies of British troopers, still attached to their parachutes. Arthur merely pursed his lips and looked away. It would have been so easy to have been shot down like many of the Allied troops were, and he was incredibly thankful he wasn't. So far, their plans had gone completely wrong. They had landed in the wrong area of France, they had no way of communication with other paratroopers, Allied commanders, or England, and now they found themselves sporting German uniforms as a means to survive and get closer to Paris. Worst of all, Arthur didn't have a clue whether or not any of the troops from the beaches would make it to Paris at all. Truth be told, liberating Paris was not a center point for the invasion at all. Arthur had nearly begged on his hands and knees to be allowed to launch a special mission to rescue Francis, and last he heard, Francis was still in the capital.
„Stop here."
The cars pulled over to the side of the road.
„What is it, Arthur?"
Matthew asked anxiously, looking at his surroundings. Arthur pointed to a far field.
„There's shooting. Our boys I think. If they are, we surrender to them, because they don't know we're not Germans."
The soldiers all nodded and sat in what appeared to be patience on the side of the road. The other figures drew near, their guns at the ready. Arthur raised his hands, cuing his men to follow lead.
„Stay still or we'll shoot!"
Arthur smiled. They were British. He shouted back.
„It's all right! Don't shoot! We're British as well, and Canadian! Don't shoot!"
„What's your name then?"
„Arthur Kirkland, and this is Matthew Williams."
The men came to a halt in front of the cars, and then lowered their guns. The commanding soldier laughed.
„Shit- I mean, sorry, sirs. Just trying to do our jobs."
Arthur waved it off.
„No apologies, lad. Have you got a radio?"
„Yes, sir."
A soldier pushed forward, offering the bulky device forward. Arthur thanked him and immediately put it to use, signaling other troops. Matthew walked towards Arthur.
„What are they saying?"
Arthur looked up.
„Well, apparently we aren't the only ones strewn across France."
Arthur was silent a moment as he signaled further.
„The beaches! They've held the beaches!"
Matthew grinned, checking his watch. It was late in the day now. They hadn't gotten nearly as far as they wanted to due to the abundance of Germans, but as far as he was concerned, they had made it somewhere and they weren't dead yet.
Arthur gave back the radio.
„Where are you lot off to?"
The other soldier shrugged.
„Don't know, sir. Killing Nazis I suppose."
„Right, well, we're off the Paris."
Arthur saluted him one last time, sending them on their way quickly so they wouldn't be spotted.
He felt slightly over joyed inside. The beaches had been taken by the Allies, and that meant that he had the potential of obtaining more help to fight Germans in Paris. The only fear he had was Alfred. He didn't ask for casualties while on the radio, because he didn't want to know. He didn't know how bad the beaches were, but he had an idea. Arthur shivered. Alfred could be shot in the head, bloodied, and dead on a French beach with hundreds, or certainly thousands of other soldiers, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Arthur turned on his heels, crawling back into the car.
„Come on, lads. Let's go kill some more jerries."
Meh, I'm very upset with . Here I am trying to type my end notes with countless D-Day historical tid-bits, and when I hit save, the little fucker tells me to re-login, and doesn't save any of my work. This little kitty is pissed.
That being said, I want to update, but am too mad to retype what should have saved.
But anywho, thank you so much for reading! We finally got to experience some action again! Jesus! And PLEASE REVIEW! You know I love to hear your feed back!
German to English translations:
„Halt, wo willst du Männer hin?"
Stop, where are you men off to?
„Um Paris. Unser Kader wurde von britischen Fallschirmjägern einen Hinterhalt gelockt und wir sind alles, was übrig bleibt."
To Paris. Our squad was ambused by British paratroopers, and we're all that remains.
„Ja, wir haben schon Abschuss Fallschirmjäger alle Morgen, kleine Wichser. Ich halte dich nicht, wir sind aus dem Rest von ihnen zu töten."
Yeah, we've been shooting paratroopers down all morning, little fuckers. Carry on, we're going to kill the rest of them.
"Danke, Viel Glück."
Thank you, good luck.