The walk to Bastogne was interesting.
They ended up bumping into a retreating troop, practically running towards them.
Soon, everyone was taking their ammo, guns, rations, winters gear.
Murphy told her squad to grab what they could.
A Lieutenant, he came by with a jeep full of ammo and got the retreating guys to put their weapons and supplies down, so the 506 could take them. You grabbed ammo, that was the first thing they needed the most. The rest, food and clothes, that came second. And when your hands were full, you'd had off ammo to the guy next to you or behind you.
It turned out to be the 28th Division pulling out, they were scared to death.
They'd never seen anything like it, but it didn't seem to phase them.
Though, some of the replacements were a little struck.
"Ignore it". Jackson told one of them, "we won't be like that".
"Scared?"
"We'll be scared". He said, "we just ain't running".
"Don't go up there!" One of them said, "there are so many Germans! They're 'gonna kill everybody!"
"That's our job!" Someone from Easy said.
"But there's a million of them!" The scared soldier warned them.
Murphy shook her head, "shut up, alright? We know we're in the shit".
Heffron clapped her shoulder, while they continued to march forward. "Hey, what the hell outfit you in?" He asked one of them.
"Artillery". He mumbled lowly in response.
"Jesus. I hope you at least lowered your gun and blew them".
"No, we didn't have time".
Murphy raised an eyebrow, she and Heffron shared the same expression.
Guarnere would have given them hell for that, "stand your ground!" They would have yelled.
Clearing her throat, they moved forward again.
They all felt ashamed of the retreating troops if anything else.
These were American soldiers.
The march led them into the town of Bastogne, and it was a devastating sight.
A once beautiful sight, in shambles. Everything was just destroyed.
Hughes looked a little stunned.
Murphy gave him a gentle nudge, "come on, pally".
They walked about a mile and a half outside Bastogne and set-up their main line of resistance. The town had a railroad running through, another crossroad. And seven roads ran through the middle of town. They had to set-up a perimeter defence, surrounding Bastogne in a circle and hold it until further notice. This was far different from France and Holland, they were always up and moving around, here, the Company were all together in one place.
Their job was to hold the line and stay alive.
Their position was in a wood, thirty to forty feet into the woods. They put outposts just behind the front of the woods, Winters set up HQ behind them, at the south edge of the woods. The woods looked out onto a grazing field, which sloped down to the village of Foy. The trees in the woods were pine, eight to ten inches in diameter, planted in rows. The 501st were on their right flank. They had an artillery Battalion and an armoured Division with them too.
They all dug their foxholes, it was a quiet night.
The fighting was to the north, in Noville, four kilometres away.
However, you could see that the retreating guys had taken quite the hit.
Lots of 88's, shell cases and tree branches all over. Dead GI's, limbs – lots of arms and legs hanging from trees, poking out from the ground. Lots of blood and guts. That was Bastogne, they weren't panicked. They all knew trouble was coming.
Murphy tossed an arm out from the foxhole hole she was digging up.
"Hey!"
Turning around, she saw Heffron rubbing his cheek.
"Who the hell is slapping me?"
Murphy, God, she wanted to laugh.
It was one of those moments, Heffron stared back at her.
"Did you just – what the hell, Murph?"
A tiny giggle pressed out from her lips, "sorry, Babe".
"Hey, Sarge?"
Murphy rubbed the tip of her cold nose, "yup, Hughes?"
"How're we 'gonna survive the cold?"
"Well…what did we learn in training, Hughes?"
Murphy resumed digging up her foxhole.
Hughes frowned a little, "uh…keep moving?"
"Right, what else?"
"Change your socks, regularly". Hughes started to list off, "make sure you're well insulated underneath. Stay close with your foxhole buddy. Stay out of the wind. Stay dry".
She nodded, "yup – that about sums it up. But if you're in a sticky situation, get creative".
"Will do, Sarge". Hughes smiled, "hey, Jack – you hear that? You creative?"
Murphy snorted softly and got into her foxhole, there, that would do it.
She was sharing with Toye.
"Think it's deep enough?"
Toye nodded, "well, we ain't going to China".
Murphy smiled and shoved his arm, "shut up, Joe".
"What'd you make of all this shit, Murph?"
"It's a dump, pal".
Smiling, Toye soon sat down, rifle in front of him.
Murphy sat down next to him and pulled out her blanket, "get yours, we'll double up".
"Yeah, alright".
Guarnere and Buck were close to them, just a few feet.
It was comforting having them close by and Winters, who was only seventy-five yards behind them. Nixon was there with him. They were really lucky to have two Battalion officers so close-by. The only problem they faced was the line itself, it was stretched very thin with many gaps. They'd need regular patrols, to keep the Germans away from their line.
The Bois Jacques.
It wasn't snowing, it wasn't raining – it was dry.
And for that night, their safe haven.
The next morning, on the 20th, brought a thick fog. It hung over the woods and fields like a white blanket. You couldn't see anything, not even the guys a few foxholes away from you. And boy, was it not just the coldest morning of your life. Murphy almost gasped, it was so cold. She looked up at Toye, his lips were blue. And with his eyes closed, he looked like a corpse.
So, she nudged him.
Toye muttered, "what?"
Murphy shook her head, "look at us, Joe, we're blue".
He tried to open his eyes, it took a few attempts. "Eyes were glued shut".
"Jesus".
Toye gave his toes a wiggle, "fuck – I'm numb".
"Same". Murphy rubbed her hands together, "best get moving or something".
So, they both got up and checked in on everyone.
Murphy made sure her boys were alive.
"You alive?"
They both opened their eyes, which were red from lack of sleep.
"Barely".
Murphy crouched in front of the foxhole, "good enough – get any sleep?"
Jackson shrugged, "few hours. What's going on?"
"Nothing, why don't you chip away at your foxhole for a bit? Needs better cover. Make it six feet in length, two feet wide. Three or four feet deep. An L-shape, long stretch for sleeping, short end for shooting".
"Alright, Sarge". Hughes said, "we got any better tools?"
"Use this". Malarkey soon handed him a shovel.
"Thank you, Sarge".
Murphy smiled and got back up, looking at Malarkey. "Thanks, Malark".
"I'll get yours done after". He told her, "we've been digging holes for the others".
"I could-"
"no, Bill wants to see you".
Murphy stuffed her hands into her pockets, "right you are, Malark".
Malarkey smiled, "see you around, Murph".
She made the short walk towards Guarnere, Buck was already making his way around 2nd, wanting to check and see if everyone was okay. Mostly, they complained about the cold. Which was fine, she had a little rant about it this morning when she thought Toye wasn't alive.
"Bill?"
"There you are". He looked up from his foxhole, "take Heffron and a medic, go get supplies in Bastogne, medics are short".
Murphy nodded, "sure thing".
"And while you're there, see if they have anything else". Guarnere said, "be nosey, Murph. Don't let me down".
She huffed out a tiny laugh, "okay, Bill".
He smiled, "get lost, Murph".
Murphy grabbed Heffron and Ralph Spina, one of their medics.
Gene had been going around each guy, asking for their aid kits.
"We're running low on morphine". He told her, "you got any, Flynn?"
Nodding, she reached into her pocket and handed him the aid kit.
"Thank you". Gene gave her a smile, "careful out there, huh?"
"Will do". She said, "have you seen Winters about this?"
"I did, yeah". He replied, "told me to hook up with doc Ryan".
Murphy nodded, "anything else?"
Gene sighed, "well…1st Battalion pulled back, they're in reserve".
She bit down on her lip, "damn – alright, thanks, Gene".
Giving her shoulder a clap, he nodded. "Stay warm".
"Yeah, you too, pal".
It was a mile and a half back into the town.
The aid station was a church.
The Germans had captured most of the 101st medical company. They lost a lot of doctors, aids and supplies. That was a great loss in the division. Ralph wasn't given a lot. Not enough to offer help to every single wounded man Easy would surely suffer with. Still, they had to take what was given to them, without much complaint. Nothing could be done.
While there, Murphy grabbed sheets, towels, flower sacks and burlap. Anything to keep them warm and layered up. Heffron placed a lot into his musette bag, as well as Ralph. They were well prepared. Murphy spotted a house, where they were serving hot food to some of the troops.
"Fancy a hot meal?"
So, the three of them sat outside a house, eating hot soup and hard bread.
"This will be our last hot meal". Heffron said.
"Probably". Murphy stated, "best enjoy it, eh?"
It was starting to get dark, they began heading back towards the woods.
Heffron suggested a shortcut.
"We've been here a day; how do you know it's a shortcut?" Murphy asked.
"I just do".
"So full of it, Babe".
And just like that, they had no idea where they were.
Murphy was about to chew him up for that but Heffron fell into a foxhole.
Sighing, she grabbed his arm, helping him get out.
"Hinkle! Hinkle!" A voice screamed from the hole, "ist das du?!"
Eyes widened, Ralph grabbed his other arm and they pulled him out.
The German revealed his cover.
They turned and ran back, while he took a few shots at them.
"Hinkle your ass, Kraut!" Heffron yelled.
They stopped running when the shots had quietened down.
Murphy laughed lightly, "Hinkle?"
"I know". Heffron grinned, breathlessly.
"Babe has a new friend". Ralph teased with a smile.
They made it back to their line, Heffron was telling everyone about Hinkle.
They all found it pretty funny.
Murphy was handing out what she picked up from town to everyone.
"Think you could do more runs into town, Murph?" Buck asked.
"Yeah, I'll take the lads tomorrow, sir".
After everything was handed out, Murphy made her way up to CP, wanting to inform Winters of their findings. And of course, she mentioned Hinkle. Winters was happy to see her, he gave her a light kiss on the lips, it was like kissing ice.
"Hinkle?"
Murphy smiled, "yeah…pretty funny, right?"
"Find anything else?"
"Nothing, aid station is as good as empty". She said, "doctors are gone, Germans took almost everything. And I don't expect we'll be getting a supply drop until the fogs cleared, right?"
Winters sighed, "it's looking that way, Murphy".
Biting her lip, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Are you keeping well?"
Smiling, he nodded. "Are you?"
"Yeah, we're fine".
And things were fine, they had a quiet two days.
They did undergo some artillery fire and machine-guns that day but nothing they didn't know how to handle. Besides, Murphy wasn't around for that, she had been with Heffron and Ralph, gathering supplies in Bastogne.
However, the next day, it turned a little sour.
It snowed.
Soft, dry and thick snow, lying perfectly on the ground.
It reached to twelve inches by around nine that morning. And the temperatures went below freezing. They were colder than they had ever been in their life. They started using the things Murphy, Heffron and Ralph brought back from town. The burlap proved to be their biggest error. They wrapped the burlap around their feet, which soaked up the snow, boots became soggy, feet got wet, the cold penetrated right into the bone. Which would soon cause trench foot. From the cold and moisture, the foot would become so tender, skin could have peeled right off. And of course, if that happened to your foot, you were off the line.
And on that day, the shelling's started.
They fired back, of course, but by God, you couldn't stop a shelling.
Murphy dove into a foxhole, Carson was screaming out in pain.
She quickly crawled over to him, his foot and thigh had sharp pieces of wood from a tree above his foxhole, penetrating into his skin. "Damn, Gordy". She mumbled, before looking back over the foxhole and waving over Jackson. He soon came running over.
"Get me a medic and an A-jeep!"
Nodding, Jackson quickly scurried off.
Murphy didn't touch his leg or foot, she held his hand instead.
When Gene arrived, Murphy headed back to her guys and got them into position.
The Germans were shooting at them with their machine-guns.
One guy was screaming for a medic, then his mother.
That was always the worst one to hear.
But Murphy got her lads focused, though the Germans were hammering them with rounds from their machine-gun, the field was soon littered with dead Germans, a part of their attempt to break into their line and reach Antwerp.
She gave their shoulders a clap, "good job".
"Thanks, Sarge".
That night, Murphy made the eerie walk to outpost. Like last time, they switched every two hours but getting to outpost was a mission in itself. You went out there by yourself, you didn't know if you'd even get there alive. Germans would sneak up on some guys, capture them. You heard all sorts of stories, rumours were a dangerous thing out in combat. However, Murphy made it to the outpost, relieved McClung and got into the small hole in the ground. Looking across the field, she saw nothing but fog and snow.
Brilliant.
There came a tiny squeak from beside her and a voice after.
"Switched?"
It was the field telephone.
Murphy picked up the receiver, "yup, I'm here".
"Good. See anything, let me know". Guarnere said, "even if it's quiet, I don't care".
Her lips twitched at that, "get lost, Bill".
The Germans had the high ground, there were hills all around. They were on a slight hill, but the enemy were higher because a lot of them were positioned in houses and a church. Three hundred odd feet away, was Foy, where the Germans were stationed. Murphy could just make out the town, if she looked through her binoculars and really looked. This fog, if the fog was gone, she'd see better.
Forty feet behind her, was another outpost, then another behind that one and then back into the woods, were the guys who were trying to get some sleep. But it was still so quiet and still out on your own, in the very front.
There came the squeak again.
"Quiet?"
Still holding her binoculars with one hand, she picked up the phone. "Yes".
"You never told me".
"Are you taking the piss, Bill?"
"Hey – speaking of". He said, "it burns when I pee".
Murphy sighed, "yeah? Maybe you're living up to your name, Gonorrhea".
Guarnere laughed at that, "you ass".
Putting down the binoculars, Murphy picked up her rifle.
"You've got two hours of my annoying voice, Murph".
She slowly shook her head, "aren't I lucky?"
"Four leaf-clover lucky?"
Murphy huffed, "you're such an arse, Bill".
"At least I ain't Irish, huh?"
"Yeah, well-"
Her sentence was cut short, because she could see something move.
Leaning forward, Murphy looked through the binoculars.
It was a German, who looked a little lost.
Damn, this line was so thin.
"Got one". She told Guarnere over the phone, "looks lost".
"Grab him, Murph". He told her, "bring him back here".
"Okay".
Picking up her rifle, Murphy slowly crept out from the outpost.
The German was forty yards in front of her, she moved to the side, using a few bushes as cover. He looked scared, while he was probably trying to find his unit. When she neared the German, almost five feet from him, he eventually took notice and raised his hands.
Murphy closed the distance between them and started searching him.
She packed away his ammo, gun, rations and aid kit.
"Right, let's go".
Grabbing his shoulder, Murphy moved him back towards their camp.
Guarnere was waiting for her, outside his foxhole.
"Checked him?"
She nodded, "got his supplies".
"Good job". Guarnere said, "head back to OP, still got a good hour and forty minutes left".
The next morning, she gave the aid kit to the medics, shared out the rations and gave the gun and ammo to Buck and Guarnere, who'd keep it as an emergency.
It seemed it didn't take long for the Germans to realise that they had the town surrounded. So, they started to hit their defensive perimeter from all sides. They pushed them so far into allied lines, they created a bulge in the line. So, they had a foot of snow, high winds and they were freezing. They had started running out of food and the Germans had the entire 101st surrounded. It happened so quickly, at the blink of an eye. The generals didn't even know but they did because they saw the anti-aircraft gun the Germans used, they saw it in all four sides of them. They fired at any allied plane. They were in trouble.
They were dug in a large circle, and that's where they planned to stay.
Hell, or high water, they weren't leaving.
Those Germans didn't know who they were dealing with.
…
They started shelling them at night.
No one slept.
They started to lose a lot of guys, replacements mostly.
You'd be so tired, you could fall asleep walking.
It happened once, a guy dropped his rifle.
Murphy bent down to pick it up, he was near snoring.
Sometimes, you'd get so tired, you didn't know what was going on.
No sleep - always stressed.
The Sargent's had to remain that constant support.
Murphy liked having that distracting of looking after others, it stopped her from realising how messed-up she was. And of course, there was Toye, who'd start singing, "I'll be seeing you". God bless that man. However, not all the men could sing. That included Guarnere, though the worst singer by far was Ralph. If he started singing, Heffron would tell him to shut up. Ralph thought he was Mario Lanza.
"Well, I come from his neighbourhood". Ralph pointed out.
"Well, you ain't got his voice!" Heffron would say, "you sing like a South Philly Willy!"
Murphy was smiling sleepily from her foxhole.
Toye was still humming.
She rubbed her eyes, for the hundredth time that day. "Sing it again, Joe".
He cleared his throat;
"I'll be seeing you.
In all the old familiar places.
That this heart of mine embraces.
All day and through.
In that small cafe.
The park across the way".
Murphy smiled and leaned back against the frozen mud.
"The children's carousel.
The chestnut tree.
The wishing well".
"Didn't that other 'gal sing it?" Popeye asked quietly.
"Billie Holiday?" Toye stopped singing, "yeah, I heard her. She's got some voice".
"I like her". Murphy said softly, "she's got a really nice voice".
"Better than mine?"
"Joe, you sound like an angel out here".
It was true, Toye sounded one hundred times better out in the woods because they didn't have a radio. And they still weren't telling Heffron he could sing. Guarnere was convinced it would go to his head. Murphy wished Malarkey would sing for them, not only was he good but he knew so much about music.
"Hey, Murph?" Heffron asked, "you should sing us an Irish song".
"I can't bloody sing, Babe". Murphy waved him off.
"You'd sound like an angel". He remarked with a grin.
Sighing, she nodded. "Right, fine, don't laugh too hard".
"Oh, Paddy dear, did 'ye hear the news that's 'goin round?
The Shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground.
Saint Patrick's Day no we'll keep, his colours can't be seen.
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green".
"Jesus Christ, Murph". Guarnere muttered, "what the fuck is this song?"
Murphy shrugged, "da used to sing it".
Heffron grinned, "keep going, Murph".
She cleared her throat.
"I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand.
He said, how's dear old Ireland, and how does she stand?
She's the most distressful country that you have ever seen.
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing for the green.
For the wearing of the green.
For the wearing of the green.
They're hanging men and women for-"
"the wearing of the green, we get it". Toye was laughing a little.
Murphy gave him a tiny glare, "look, it get's better, alright?"
"Yeah, quit interrupting her, Joe". Liebgott said, "that's rude".
She continued once again.
"And since the colour we must wear is England's cruel red.
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they had shed.
You may take the Shamrock from your hat, and case it on the sod.
But 'twill take root and flourish there no underfoot tis trod.
My father loved his country and sleeps within its breast.
While I that would have died for her must never soul be blessed.
Most tears my mother shed for me, how bitter they'd have been.
If I have proved a traitor to the wearing of the green.
For the wearing of the green-"
The rest soon joined in.
"For the wearing of the green.
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green!"
There was a tiny cheer.
"You're not too bad". Guarnere said, "out here, you could have made some cash".
Murphy chuckled, "ah – thank you, Bill".
There was no singing during a shelling.
The Germans would come at them from the side with their tanks, because they couldn't get past the trees. So, they drove the tanks to the edge of the trees and fired 88's, then they'd back off and come back with more. The shells would hit the trees, they'd explode and shoot shrapnel everywhere, lots of guys got hit from one shell. They called them treebursts.
It was loud, like any other shelling.
When it stopped, they'd fire back at them.
Because they'd come up with machine-guns occasionally.
But if they didn't, you'd be in your foxhole, head down and waiting.
There only job was to push them back, hold the line and stay alive.
One day, things would get better. But right now, that day was way into the future.
