Kanuro5: Man, a lot of things have been going on in life since the last update. My career with nonstop work, finding a new place to live (still looking btw), and the good ol' writer's block. Again, I apologize, but please know that updates are infrequent, but I continue to work on the story. Enjoy!
The Machinegunner
August 6th, D-Day + 61
"There is a lot of stuff we can't control, but it is completely in our power to decide what the definition of a good job is. That's up to us."
The sun was going down as the section of machinegunners were cheering on their man, Corporal Ray Dunlop, who was viciously engaged against the Platoon Sergeant of the MGs, Staff Sergeant Greg Paine, in an arm-wrestling match.
Paine offered them three packs of smokes if one of them could beat him, in exchange they would offer up three packs. He wasn't much of a smoker, the only time he did so was on the 6th of every month. He started that the hour after he survived Omaha.
Paine was a big man, a defensive end on his high school football team. He joined the National Guard out of school, his family was barely scraping by with three kids to feed during the tail-end of the Depression and could not afford to send him to college. He decided to join the Guard to alleviate his family's burden, and he did love the attention civilians gave to a man in uniform.
He became a machinegunner upon hearing a statistic. In the last war, they said the average lifespan of a machinegunner was three minutes or less. That knocked the wind out of most guys' sails upon hearing that. It startled Paine for a moment, but just for a moment. He always loved a challenge; he was determined he could beat those odds. Just like he did when he became a Ranger with the 29th, and one of the few men of Able Company to be designated as Ranger qualified.
Dunlop clenched his teeth and muscled his arm forward, trying to wrench the thick, callous hands of the platoon sergeant. But Paine wasn't really sweating. Dunlop had good grip and great strength, but he didn't figure out the secret of arm wrestling. Paine was smirking, much like operating a machinegun in a fight, it wasn't about strength, but technique, patience, and timing.
He waited, at the opportune moment when Dunlop eased up pressure to regain his strength to renew his assault, that was when Paine struck. Paine gritted his teeth and forced his arm down, Dunlop tumbled to the dirt. The section was stunned. Sergeant Gillock was chuckling.
His second-in-command was Sergeant Jason Gillock, another Omaha vet. Gillock patted Paine on the back, "That's how ya do it, Greg!"
The staff sergeant was shaking his arm as he opened and clenched his hand, standing triumphant. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Dunlop."
The men picked up Dunlop, who was massaging his elbow tenderly, "Damn, Sarge, you 'bout damn near broke my arm," yelped the loser.
"Don't be a priss, Dunlop. Suck that shit up," said the victor with a smirk.
Muniplo and Williams came behind Dunlop, "Ya damn idiot! We believed in you! You just cost us our smokes!"
Dunlop turned to both of them, "Well I ain't see any of you volunteer to go up against Paine."
"Maybe because they all got brains, Corporal," Gillock rubbed in.
Paine took the three packs of cigarettes in his hand, then tossed it back to his men. They were stunned. Paine was still smiling, "I'm feeling generous, tonight. Dunlop did a good job. Keep your smokes."
He wasn't going to take anything from his men. Just reestablish who was in charge.
"But," Paine continued, "such generosity comes at a cost. All right boys, from the top let's go over the rules."
The entire section groaned. Paine looked to Sergeant Gillock, "Do you hear that, Gil? They're bitching cause they lost."
Sergeant Gil was smirking, "Ain't no reason to grumble anymore since all of ya lost. Oh boo-friggin-hoo."
"C'mon, give me the rules," Paine egged on. "Rule #1?"
The entire machinegun section all spoke in a monotone, " 'Know your gun like you know your girl. If you do not have a girl, then treat your gun like a girl'."
"Good. Rule #2?"
" 'Always fire short burst'."
"#3?"
" 'Long burst only if they pass twenty yards'."
"#4?"
" 'Never target a single man, target the kill zone'."
"Rule #5?"
" 'In a fight, no man of the crew is inactive, we all can do something'."
"Very good, boys! Very good."
He knew they hated reciting the rules. He forced them to recite it once a day since Cherbourg. They got new men to replace the casualties, and nearly on a constant basis it seemed, and he wanted this to be seared into their brains when they first come under fire.
He had three crews with him, and they embodied the "Blue & Grey" of the 29th Division. Each crew of this machinegun section came from one of the three parts of the Capital and bordering states.
Crew 1, were called the "D.C.s" since coming from Washington. Rodney was the gunner; Dunlop was the assistant gunner. Muniplo, Williams were their ammo bearers.
Crew 2, known as the "M.D.s" from their Maryland residence. Harrison was the gunner; Brown was the assistant gunner. Sturgis and Quinn were their ammo bearers.
Crew 3, known as the "V.A.s" from their Virginia residence. McClellan was the gunner, "Stucky" Jones was the assistant, with Haskins and Tito as the ammo bearers.
And there was his loyal radioman, Private First Class Bukovski, a Bulgarian replacement from Buffalo, New York, everyone called him "Buff" for short because of his residence.
Paine had more men with him originally, but the campaign had been chewing his gunners up. He was probably at 75% strength. He needed more replacements, even if he just got some not too long ago. But being a veteran in the Army, he knew he had to make do like everyone else.
As part of the machinegun section, they operated with two different types of machineguns. The M1917 was a .30 caliber belt-fed, water-cooled, fully automatic heavy machinegun. It is designed to fire large quantities of bullets, showering the enemy with deadly lead and scaring him into staying behind cover. They possessed three of these heavy machineguns. They also had three M1919 Brownings, a belt-fed medium machinegun that was also .30 caliber.
What made these heavy machine guns aesthetically different than their medium machinegun counterpart was the giant water cooler covering the barrel. If one kept firing the machineguns, then the barrel itself would burn and make it inoperable. To fight this, a water cooler was placed over the barrel like a giant metal sleeve. Even so, if one kept firing without let up, the barrel could still burn. Since the gun itself was heavy and bulky, the assistant gunners who carried it had to be strong themselves. The assistant gunners carried thick asbestos gloves to aid in lugging the hot machinegun around. While the medium M1919 was air-cooled instead, it lacked the water jacket of its sister and thus was considerably lighter. This support weapon allowed infantry to attack with easier mobility, speed, and firepower.
And if push came to shove, then he could order the extra ammo bearers from each crew to form up into a new crew to man an additional gun. Again, if he only had more men. Though to fight this, he would occasionally "loan" a medium MG to one of the platoons if they needed it or if his men were too whittled away.
If Paine had a preference, he would have gone with the Heavy machinegun. He believed a true support weapon had to pack a punch against the enemy, and he enjoyed feeling the weight of the gun.
There was always a rivalry going around on who was the best machinegun crew, and they would often fish for compliments from the riflemen whenever they were assigned to a platoon. That's how it went, anytime a platoon was needed for a combat patrol, they would call up Paine to offer up an MG crew. Often times, Paine would go as well to accompany his boys and make sure to know if he would need a second gun.
Crane came by and motioned with his head, "Paine!"
The sergeant stood up and stretched, "Yeah?"
"Conti needs to see the platoon sergeants, now."
Oh boy… Paine sucked his bottom lip. This was never good.
Paine followed the one-armed First Sergeant down the hill to the company HQ. He spotted Conti standing with an unlit cigarette in his lips and a pissed-off expression on his face. Platoon sergeants and platoon leaders were walking towards him as well. Oh boy… he thought to himself.
Duck was waltzing over with a smirk, "Hey, Lieutenant, what's this about? They want to know what flavor coffee and donuts we want?"
Conti gave a grizzled exhale, "Looks like the coffee and donuts are gonna be a lil' cold."
Everyone stopped in disappointment. Duck groaned loudly. Sergeant Jelenic of the Mortars buried his face in his palms, slurring slowly, "Oh, Goooooood, DAMMIT!"
Paine was right, he knew it wasn't going to be good. Any veteran knew when the talk of "coffee and donuts" were "going to be cold" or "late", it meant that a fight was going to ensue.
"Everyone, poppa squat," Conti said, lighting a Chesterfield.
The officers and NCOs were taking knees around their C.O. Staff Sergeant Fischer smacked his lips, "When are they hitting us?"
Conti dragged on the cigarette and exhaled, "About an hour."
"Aw Christ…" was Fischer's response.
"I got word from Fats that HQ reported the Krauts are coming here in an hour."
"Who's hitting us, sir?" Lieutenant Ekland of 3rd Platoon asked.
"Two Panzer divisions, one of them's SS."
"Fuck!" Jelenic quickly cursed.
Lieutenant Pollard looked pale, "Good Lord…"
Sergeant Duhaney was smiling bitterly, "Of course! Two divisions versus a company. Because why the fuck not?!"
"Stow it, Duhaney," Conti said curtly. "If I wanted bellyachin', I woulda ask the replacements to join us."
"Perhaps they'll just throw a battalion at us instead of the whole divisions," Duck offered.
Duhaney looked to him and scoffed, "Always the optimist…"
Crane looked over to Conti, "What's the plan, sir?"
Conti took out his map and ordered everyone to circle around him. He had Crane hold a flashlight with his good hand to illuminate the map.
Conti made a circle with his finger around the hill on the map, "We need ta set up a defensive perimeter. Thank God for my sixth sense, I knew it was good ta reinforce the defensive positions. Once the perimeter is established, we need ta fortify the town of Mortain. We can't let Jerry get it or else they'll use it as a staging area for an assault."
The C.O then jabbed at two positions, "There's two roads that lead into Mortain, the northern and the southern. And both of these roads hook around the town. I bet my bottom buck that the first and heaviest elements of Jerry's comin' down the southern road.
"How are we going to position Able?" Crane asked.
"We're gonna horseshoe this bastard, yeah? Look here." He moved his finger to trace the map. "We'll only have one platoon who'll stay on the hill and to protect the approach from the east. Our two other platoons are going to be off the hill, one's going to be to the north to guard the HQ and protect against the northern road, and the other shall guard the southern road. With both platoons protecting both roads, we can keep Mortain open."
"And if the platoons get pushed back, what then, sir?" Lieutenant Peck asked.
Crane spoke up, "Then if the flanks get threatened, then they pull back to the hill, and thus we close the horseshoe into a defensive circle on the hill."
"Exactly," Conti confirmed.
"How are we going to pull back if the Krauts are on our tails?" Pollard asked.
"I fuckin' hate this, but Platoon Leaders will call in the 1-0-5 and 60mm barrages to cover all withdraw. But of course…" Conti had a bitter expression drape his face, "Danger close."
"And we got to climb a hill, in the dark, while being shot at, and with jumpy new men as sentries…" Fischer remarked sourly.
"Always Able…"
"Always Able…" they all echoed.
Lieutenant Ekland looked to Conti, "Okay, sir, so who gets what position?"
Conti's head swiveled to each Platoon Leader, "Peck, your 2nd Platoon guards the northern road and the HQ. Pollard, your 1st Platoon will get the southern road. There's a trench in the hedgerow that you'll reinforce, I got a good feeling Jerry's comin' straight through there. Ekland, your platoon has the hill. Each platoon will be provided a machinegun crew from Paine's platoon."
"Can do, sir," Paine confirmed. "But, even if we got 1st Platoon guarding the southern road, who's going to protect Mortain."
"The only reserve we got is 3rd Platoon, but I need the reserve on the hill when Jerry sends us back. The best I can do is send a squad from 3rd Platoon. You understand, Ekland?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
Conti turned back to Paine, "I know ya spread damn thin, Paine, but I'll need ta stretch ya further. I'll need at least one more squad from your guys ta get a machinegun with the squad from 3rd Platoon."
He understood why, but Paine didn't like it one bit. "I wish I had more men, sir."
"And I wish we all had more men. Shit, I wish the entire division were here. We work with what we got."
"Understood, sir."
Conti looked around to the rest of the men, "Pass the word for the password of the night. The challenge is "Bat", like the animal and equipment. The password is "Hell". Got it?"
"Yes, sir," they all said.
"Good, make sure your men know it… Listen, boys, all we gotta do is hold out til' morn'. Daring Dog is coming at 0630, ta relieve us, along with the rest of the battalion. We just need ta hold off Jerry. Capisce?"
"Yes, sir."
The green lieutenant Pollard looked as if he swallowed a billiard ball. Fischer patted him on the chest twice, "Hey, this is it, sir. Let's get to it!"
"Yeah, yeah let's do this."
Conti looked at the officer, "Hey, Pollard?"
"Sir?"
"Breathe. Just breathe, in-and-out."
Pollard did so twice, he was beginning to look more composed. "I… I think I'm good, sir."
Conti gave the officers and platoon sergeants a final look, "Always Able?"
"Always Able!" they asserted.
Sergeant Gillock was sucking his lip at the sight of Paine returning, "Oh boy, Greg, this isn't good, huh?"
"Nope, it ain't, Gil. Everyone, gather 'round!"
The section formed a semicircle around their platoon sergeant.
"What's going on, Sarge? 1st Platoon was rushing down the hill with their weapons," Buff the radioman asked.
Paine sighed, "Jerry's coming, with two Panzer divisions."
The entire section groaned.
Buff looked to Paine, "When are they coming, Sarge?"
"In a goddamn hour, so we gotta hurry up. Listen, Conti's going to position the hill like this. The only rifle platoon staying on the hill is 3rd. 1st Platoon is going to guard the trench in the hedgerow by the southern road. And 2nd Platoon got the northern road and they're overlooking that and the HQ. Mortain is to be guarded by a squad from 3rd Platoon. The entire company is spread out to cover as much ground as we can, and we got to be extended as well."
"So… how big is this s'pose to be?"
"This is an "All-hands-on-deck" big, Dunlop."
Everyone looked at him.
"That's right, boys. We're all in. Even me. No reserves. The Germans got too many men and we're spread too damn thin. Every crew is being assigned to a platoon."
"Jesus…" Buff said softly.
Gil nodded, "All right, then. So, who goes where?"
Paine pointed to the 1st crew, "D.C, you guys are with 1st Platoon, I'll accompany you to set up a good position. You guys get both a Heavy and a Medium."
"Two guns?"
"They expect that's where the Germans are going to hit first and the hardest. We'll need the firepower, and that's why I'm going."
Paine looked to the 2nd crew, "M.D, you guys are with 2nd Platoon."
"Consider it done," said Harrison.
Paine looked to the final crew, "V.A, you guys are with 3rd Platoon and are going to guard the hill from the eastern approach. Odds are, if the Germans push 1st Platoon back, they're going to strike the hill to the east. You get one Heavy, but it's in an enfilade with a great field-of-fire. You guys are going to get the chunk of the ammo."
"Not that I'm complaining, Sarge," McClellan of the spoke up, "But only the D.C guys get an additional gun. What of the two remaining Mediums?"
At that comment, Paine pointed to his second-in-command, "Because they are going to Gillock." He then looked to the sergeant, "Gil, listen up. You, Quinn, and Tito are going to defend Mortain with the squad from 3rd Platoon, so I'm giving you guys the two remaining Lights."
Gil sucked his bottom lip subtly, "We're going to need a lot of ammo."
"I know. You know what you need, and you know what you can spare, I'm leaving it to you." He turned his attention back to the rest of the section, "Tito, Quinn, sorry I'm pulling you two off the and , but like I said, this is an "All-Hands-On-Deck" shit-heap we're in.
"Make sure you boys find solid positions. Take your mittens, you're going to need them when we fall back to the hill."
Again, everyone looked at him with enlarged stares. Sergeant Gil found his voice, " 'When'?"
Paine nodded in affirmation, "When. All right machineguns, let's make 'em holler."
The sun had fully descended into the earth, the moon was rising high, a few hours more and it would reach its apex. The D.C. crew followed Paine and his radioman, Buff, down the hill. Rodney the gunner and Dunlop the assistant were given the Heavy, whilst the ammo bearers, Muniplo and Williams, took the Medium gun down the hill. Paine was carrying cans of ammos in his hands and under his arms, with his carbine slung over his shoulder. Thank God he was a big guy. Gil and his composite crew were carrying down the two medium guns as well.
They heard someone heaving hard as it was ascending the hill. The section stopped quickly to identify who it could be. But Paine could recognize the body shape of the man.
"Fats! It's Paine, what are you doing down there? Don't you know the Krauts are coming."
The radioman stopped and caught his breath. "Who you think told Conti? Speakin' of, where is he?"
"Last I saw him, he was at the HQ."
"Good, that's where I'm going. I got to give him the field phone, finally got the bastard working.
"Oh yeah, Fats, remember this, the challenge for tonight is "Bat". Password's "Hell"."
"How appropriate."
"Right?"
"Thanks, Paine."
"No prob."
"Oh yeah, heads up, there's an opening of a hedgerow down the base of the hill, 30 meters to the east is where 1st Platoon's OP should be, maybe an MG can be placed near the hedgerow to block the approach?"
Paine chuckled with a nod, "If you're right, I owe you a chocolate bar, Fats."
Fats jostled up the hill as quick as he can, Gil shook his head and whistled.
"What is it?" Paine asked him.
"Ain't right. Tonight ain't right, Greg. I got a bad feeling; I know something's going to happen."
"Never figured you for the spookish sort, Gil."
"Just for tonight, I am. I don't like it."
"I know, Always Able."
"Always Able. Guess this is the divide, I'll take my crew and find a good spot to set up in Mortain. For God's sake, hold the line and don't let them get in Mortain, for my sake."
Paine laughed, "Ya got it, buddy. Good luck, Gil."
Sergeant Gillock smiled, "Good luck, Greg." Him and his crew then departed.
Paine and the D.C. crew came down the hill and found that the 1st Platoon was already digging the trench in deeper. This was where the Germans would have to come through to attack the hill.
"Hey, Lieutenant."
"Sergeant Paine, correct?"
"Yes, sir. I got two guns here. I'm thinking this, sir, I leave the heavy here and I take the medium gun up on ahead to skirmish the Krauts, we keep them on their toes, assess the situation, and make ourselves seem bigger than we are. How does that sound?"
Pollard chuckled lightly, "You're the expert here, Sergeant. I'll go with your idea. But how about we put the heavy gun on the extreme left? That way, if you fall back with the 2nd gun, you go to the right and we got an interlocking field of fire."
"That'll work, sir. Who you got on OP duty?"
"Privates Lazzano and Franks, who both got BARs for tonight. They're stringing up trip wires for flares."
Paine nodded, "All right, I'll set my boys up."
The lieutenant nodded and went back to work. The staff sergeant led Rodney and Dunlop to the far edge of the trench and ordered them to place their gun down and to dig in. With the heavy gun established, now was the time to place his medium machinegun farther ahead as a skirmishing action. Paine, Buff, Muniplo, and Williams walked ahead 50 meters from 1st Platoon's trench. Fats was right. The opening to this hedgerow was perfect. It covered the OP from 1st Platoon, and if the Krauts take the OP, they would be narrowed into a killzone by the MG.
"I guess I owe the Fat Man a candy bar," Paine sighed with a smirk. "All right, boys, plant the gun here. Dig a pit here as quick as you can. Get some of those engineers to assist with the sandbags."
Williams lowered the tripod and Muniplo placed the gun inside. "We expected to hold off the entire German assault by ourselves?" Muniplo asked.
"Of course not," Paine replied. "We're going to narrow them into here and blast them. We ain't expecting to hold, once you two engaged with them enough, you fall back to 1st Platoon, got it? To the extreme right. We gotta slow the Krauts down until the morning."
"Got it, Sarge," both machinegunners said.
Paine had to go jog all around the hill to ensure that all the machineguns were positioned properly, an event that took longer than he wanted. The on the hill were positioned well enough and were entrenched, their sights focused on the approach up the hill. Paine jogged to 2nd Platoon's position, the M.D crew were set up in the center of the line behind a low stone wall, their gun was the shining defense to ward off the Germans from attacking the HQ.
Paine and Buff were jogging back through the dark to head to the OP of 1st Platoon. Paine looked back to his radioman, "How ya doing, Buff?"
"I'm hanging in there, Sarge, just don't like all of this back and forth. We're spread too goddamn thin."
"I know it. This mission is meant for a battalion at least and a division at most."
"Seems like Jerry's going to surround us by the end of the night, Sarge."
"Maybe… But the name of the game is to bide for time, not to win."
"Hell, Sarge, that is a victory."
"Goddamn right."
"Remind me the game plan once Jerry comes knocking, Sarge. Like, what are the two of us going to do?"
"We're going to hang around the OP. Once we see them coming, we're going to fall back to the MG pit with Muniplo and Williams, and put up a light defense, if we get too much pressure at the MG pit, we fall back to the trench with 1st Platoon, that's where we make our solid stand."
"And if Jerry begins to overrun us at the trench?"
"Then we fall back to the hill and hold it."
"And if Jerry begins to overrun us at the hill?"
"We hold it."
"But if—"
"If."
"Oh… gotcha."
The two men made it to the southern road and spotted the sandbag OP off to the side. Lazzano and Franks were lying on their stomachs underneath the shrubbery. Paine and Buff came from behind them and squatted, "See anything out there, boys?"
Lazzano shook his head, "Zilch, Sarge. But can you hear that?"
Paine had to focus, but he could hear something. It sounded like crickets in the distance, but much more rapid in cadence. The cricketing was soft but had a metallic twing to it. Paine's stomach began to tighten, his hands clenched instinctively.
"What is that noise? It's so faint," Buff asked.
Franks didn't turn around to answer, "That would be Jerry."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Buff squinted his eyes into the darkness, "Sarge, I can't see shit out here."
Paine grunted, "Your eyes will get used to it, trust me on that, Bu—"
The earth began to tremble every so softly. If one was walking, they wouldn't recognize it. But if you were still and, on the ground, you could feel the ground shaking.
Buff shivered softly, "Please tell me that's a mini-earthquake."
"No, man," Franks said, his voice even softer, "The metal cricketing, the ground shaking, that's armor. Oh God, they're here…"
What started as a muffled cricketing evolved into loud, metallic, rhythmic creaking on gears of tanks. The trembling of the earth grew more intense. Every ten seconds, the sound and vibrations of the tanks grew louder. Paine prayed that the tanks wouldn't be coming down this road.
"Where did you put those trip flares?" he asked Lazzano.
"75 yards out. If a squirrel so much as crossed that part of the road, then it would go up."
It was too dark to see any armor, but the noise and smell of the German tanks was evident. By the sound of the creaking, the tanks were driving to the right, heading to Mortain. Paine hoped that Gil and his boys were ready for a fight. But this wasn't much of a relief. Where there was armor, there was infantry…
"Shh!" Lazzano curtly whispered, "I thought I saw something..."
The full moon came from behind the clouds, its beams shone down on the area, nothing could be seen stirring.
A red flare shot into the air. All four men followed the crimson star's ascension.
The moonlight that glistened the edges of the black night melted into a swath of dirty crimson, flickering onto the trees and grass. Within the flickering red, figures were moving out in the open. Their uniforms were visible, as were their weapons. The man leading them crouched down and motioned with his hand for those behind him to follow suit. Paine counted eight Krauts.
"Contact!" Franks screamed.
The dual BARs opened in unison. Two Germans fell backwards, the bullets causing their bodies to twist. The rest hit the grass and began returning fire. Paine and Buff hit the dirt fully as well, trying to take cover behind the sandbags.
Paine looked to his radioman, "Buff, give me the horn!"
Buff handed him the receiver and personally returned fire alongside the riflemen. Paine yelled in the receiver to Conti on the other end, "This is Paine! We made contact with Jerry by the 1st Platoon OP, over!"
"How many? Over." came Conti's voice.
Paine cursed to himself, he saw eight at first, but who knows how many now. He raised his head up. The red flare was burning, but he could count at least a dozen Germans firing at them, with more Germans rushing forward.
He returned to the radio, "We got about two squads of Krauts and more reinforcing them! I bet it's an entire platoon! Over!"
"Any armor? Over."
Three Mauser rounds cracked above the sergeant's head. "We can hear and feel them in the distance, but we can't see them here!"
"Do you request fire support? Over."
"Don't bother! We can't hold them here, save the ordinance! I have a feeling we'll need all that we have!"
"All right, Paine, then get the hell out of there and get back to 1st Platoon! Solid copy?"
"Copy that, out!"
Paine shouldered his weapon and started firing off shots into anything that moved in the flickering red light.
"You two!" he shouted to the riflemen. "As soon as the flare dies out, get outta here, and don't fire a shot! Remember, I got my MG boys back there, don't forget the password! Head straight back to the platoon!"
"Understood!" Lazzano shouted as he reloaded.
Soon, the flare's red intensity began to fizz out. The German's firing began to decrease in accuracy. Through the firing, Paine could hear the squeaking bogies of tank treads, yet he couldn't see where the armor was. The flare then died out, blackness with streaks of silver colored the night once more.
"Bug out, now!" Pained yelled to the riflemen.
Lazzano and Franks bolted to their feet and dashed across the dirt road and into the hedgerow, bullets were following their figures as they ran. Paine stood to his knee to cover them, firing off an entire clip of his carbine in rapid succession.
"Sarge, we made it! C'mon, let's go!" Franks called after them.
He could hear the bullets screech through the air around him, snapping at the branches to the left of him. Paine looked to Buff, "In about five seconds, we're going to get up and sprint back to Muniplo and Williams! Five! Four! Three! Tw—"
The unmistakable sound of an MG42 was unleashed in the night. A buzzsaw of bullets soared a foot high over the heads of Paine and Buff, with little red tracers marking the pattern.
"Never mind, keep ya head down!" Paine shouted. Standing up was tantamount to suicide. "Follow me, Buff! Crawl!"
The staff sergeant gritted his teeth and began crawling out of the OP with his weapon in his arms like he was in basic training. "Hurry up, Buff! C'mon!"
"Easy for you to say! You ain't got a damn radio on your back!"
The two of them crawled as quick as they could through the dirt road. The majority of the Germans were still firing at the now empty position. There were a few sharp-eyed Krauts who took shots at the crawling forms, but the bullets missed their targets.
By the time both of them crossed the road, they dashed in through the hedgerow field as fast they as they could. They were running in the dark, but Paine thought he could make out something light within the dark that was on the ground… the MG pit!
"Bat!" Paine called out quickly, not stopping his run.
"Hell!" came the reply from Williams.
Paine and Buff slid down into the pit next to the MG. Buff was gasping for air.
"You guys all right?" Muniplo asked.
"Christ! We almost bought it!" Buff remarked in surprise.
"That sounds like a lot of Krauts, Sarge!"
"There are!" Buff affirmed out of breath.
Paine looked to the two-man crew. "Did the riflemen make it back?"
"Yeah, they passed by us and kept running. I guess we're the next line of defense?"
"Damn straight. Keep your eyes forward and hold your fire. Wait for my command."
From their MG pit, the four men watched as the Germans continued firing at the vacant OP for a solid minute, until the fire slowly began to dissipate. Then it ceased completely. Through the gears of armor that seemed to echo around the entire hill, the Americans could hear the Germans chattering in their language. The German suddenly ceased. Half a minute later, the machinegunners could hear the quick crunching of dirt from the OP's position. Somebody was running.
"Oh Lord, I hear 'em, but I can't see 'em," Muniplo whispered.
"I know, don't worry about it, leave it to me," Paine reassured them. He turned to Buff, "Give me the horn."
He handed the receiver to the sergeant; Paine could hear the man on the other end pick up, "Mike, you there?"
Sergeant Jelenic of the Mortars answered, "Yeah, Greg, we can hear the firing from the hill, you boys all right? Over?"
"We're fine, but we got a bunch of Krauts coming. You still got our OP by the road zeroed in? Over."
"Yeah. Wha'cha need?"
"Give us some light on the OP, we fell back to the second line of defense. Over."
"Understood, Greg. Standby and hang tough. Out."
Paine gave the receiver back to Buff. The sergeant told Muniplo, "Listen, pivot the gun to the left, once the flare comes, arc it to the right, understood?"
"You got it, Sarge."
Within moments a new flare was descending from the sky, this one was a bright white light that illuminated the night in a greater degree than the red flare. With the brighter illumination, fifteen Germans were caught out in the open.
Paine extended his hand forward, "Open fire!"
Muniplo opened fire. Per his directions, Muniplo had the medium machinegun pivot to the left as far it could go; once Muniplo fired it, he quickly arced it from the left to the right in a fluid sweeping motion. Such a trick allowed a gunner to capitalize on the most effective kill zone to eliminate hostiles in a single sweep instead of aiming the gun down the middle and picking targets on the left or right side of the gunner. And this tactic worked beautifully. Rule #4, Never target a single man, target the killzone.
In that one sweeping motion, Muniplo took out five unprepared Germans who fell to the grass screaming. The rest hit the grass, automatically suppressed. Paine let Williams direct Muniplo's firing, it was up to Paine and Buff to assist in the suppression. "Buff, open fire on 'em!" Paine commanded. Rule #5, In a fight, no man of the crew is inactive, we all can do something.
Their carbines barked in unison at the suppressed Germans. The combined effort of the machinegun and carbines managed to pin down half of the remaining Germans. Some of the Krauts tried to bury their bodies as deep in the earth as possible, but Muniplo's gun raked the bodies of some of them. One German was trying to crawl back, Paine gritted his teeth and started taking shots at the German. Upon his third shot, Paine got the man in the torso, the German flailed on his back in pain, Paine fired three more times, two of the bullets getting the German in the chest, the man stopped flailing.
Through the bursts, Paine could hear calls in German. They were trying to get organized. More Germans were coming into the hedgerow, but they were advancing slowly, not trying to rush forward into machinegun fire. He could see MG teams in the back of the field trying not to get too close, and they were setting up their MG42s.
By the time the flare was burning out, their Browning MGs had already burned through a case of ammo.
"Don't worry about the ammo!" Paine told them. "Pull on back to the platoon and load the gun there, head to1st Platoon's trench! Go!"
The men immediately began disassembling the machinegun; they pulled back in a hurry with Paine and Buff close behind them. They got out of there right when the '42 began firing, the Krauts were still shooting at their previous location.
"Bat," a call came out from the rear.
"Hell!" Paine answered back.
The trench was becoming more visible. After ten more seconds of running, the four machinegunners hopped in at the center and met with Lieutenant Pollard and Staff Sergeant Fischer.
"You boys, all right?" Fischer asked.
Paine was panting softly, "Yeah! We're good, there's a lot of them. All infantry, no armor, so far." He turned to the officer, "I think we got ten Krauts or so, sir. The rest hung on back, they were real cautious."
Pollard looked to Paine, "Think they took the bait?"
"Yeah, they're going to be coming here, real soon, sir. And not the southern road to the hill."
"Good job, Sergeant. Get your men into position."
"Yes, sir. Muniplo, Williams, get to the far right of the flank. Rodney and Dunlop are already on the left with the Heavy. Get set in and get this crossfire ready!"
Five minutes had passed since the last engagement. The American platoon were waiting patiently, they could hear the Germans inching closer, the jingling of loose equipment from German replacements occasionally broke into the air. The Germans who were wounded in the distance were clearly being shushed and reassured by their comrades.
A replacement mumbled, "I can hear them speaking Kraut out there."
Pollard muttered to the kid, "Hold your fire. We can't see 'em yet…"
The trembling and creaking of armor came from the distant dark. The men could breathe easier that the armor wasn't coming towards them, but knowing that the unseen armor was circling around the hill did not totally ease their nerves.
Suddenly, they all could hear the machinegun rattling of a Browning and an MG42 battling out in the distance, followed by the distinctive cracks of Mauser rifles. Paine already knew where the fire was coming from.
"Where's that firing?" someone asked open-endedly.
"Mortain." Paine said without looking at them. "They already reached Mortain." He turned to Buff, "Get me, Gil, now!"
Buff had to dial it in on his backpack, but he got through to Sergeant Gillock.
Paine spoke in a hushed urgency, "Gil! Come in, this is Paine, what's the situation!"
The unmistakable roar of a M1917 came from the other end, then came Gil, "Greg! We got the entire Kraut army attacking us! How the hell did they break through?!"
Gaps… thought Paine, we're spread too goddamn thin… Or, they had already decided to split their forces before coming into our vicinity…
"Greg!" came Gil's panicked voice, "We are already being overrun in Mortain! We are cut off and cannot hold! I spot an entire platoon worth of them circling back to the hill from Mortain! They're comin' right at ya!"
Paine looked to the lieutenant, "Gillock said… they're cut off at Mortain.
The full moon was behind thick layer of clouds.
Click-Click came a rapid noise from someone's mouth. Pollard, Fischer, and Paine looked over to the right where Hollister was.
"What is it?" Pollard whispered to him.
Sergeant Hollister shouldered his M1 rifle, aiming at the end of a hedgerow that protected their right flank. The right flank that was tied-in with the direction of Mortain. "Someone's out there, sir. I got 'em locked."
"Are you sure, sergeant?"
"Yes," he replied confidently.
The entire platoon was silent. The lieutenant raised his voice in a hoarse whisper, "Bat…"
No response within five seconds.
The lieutenant gulped softly, then raised his voice louder, "Bat!"
Silence.
BANG-BANG! Hollister's rifle barked in rapid succession.
A bloody wail followed the gunshots. Something heavy fell, along with a clatter of equipment. The cry of pain continued.
A storm of bullets soared against the platoon from the flank. The barking of the weapons was of German design. The men hunkered down in the trench and began returning fire from the side. As the firing emerged from the flank, the Germans in the field began firing from the center at the platoon.
"How the hell did they flank us?!" someone shouted.
"Shut up and shoot!" came the response from Fischer.
The riflemen sprung up and began returning fire at the muzzle flashes in the dark.
"I need illumination rounds a hundred yards out from my position, now!" Pollard ordered into the radio.
Within moments, dazzling flares descended from the sky. The clouds opened in unison; the radiance of the moon shined on the battlefield. The moon and flares together revealed nearly thirty Germans in the field coming at them from the center, half of them prone, the other half moving ahead slowly. All of them were firing.
To the right with about thirty yards from the trench, two squads of Germans were trying to probe and close the distance in a charge-and-drop approach.
Pollard screamed down the line, "Sergeant Hollister, get your squad out of the trench and cover the flank."
"Yes, sir!" came the reply, "Let's move!"
The riflemen jumped out of the trench and took positions near scattered sandbags on the flanks. The machineguns were roaring on both sides, grinding the Germans down in the center field in a crossfire. But Paine knew this wouldn't last if 1st Platoon's flank was threatened.
He rushed through the trench and came to his medium MG crew on the right flank and yelled at them, "Hold your fire! Take this gun out of the trench and reinforce Hollister's squad out of the trench!"
"But we got a bunch of Germans in a sweet killbox, Sarge!" Muniplo replied.
"That ain't gonna matter if the flank folds!" Paine had thought of Gil holding Mortain with his last breath. "Listen! If they're coming from Mortain, they're going to overrun the flank. Switch out now, dammit!"
"Yes, Sergeant!"
Muniplo ceased in his firing. He took the gun out of the tripod, allowing Williams to pick up the tripod and the ammo cases. Both men awkwardly climbed out of the trench amidst the heavy fire and dashed off to Sergeant Hollister's position.
Paine gnashed his teeth at the result of his decision. They only had the Heavy machinegun left to fend off the main assault.
Paine scrambled through the crowded and hectic trench and made his way to the opposite end of the trench, where Rodney and Dunlop were reloading the gun. Rodney opened the breach and Dunlop handed him the ammo belt. Mauser rounds thumped into the earthen trenchwork in front of their faces and gun.
Rodney shouted, "Sarge! Why is it quiet by Muni and William's gun? What happened to our crossfire?!"
"I had to nix it to save our flank!" Paine explained. "It's just you guys now protecting the trench!"
"Jesus Christ!" Dunlop yelped in exasperation.
"C'mon, boys! Level the gun thirty degrees!" Paine shouted, extending his arm like a spear. "We got a squad of Krauts bunched up! Mow 'em down!"
Rodney slammed the breach down over the belt and pulled the bolt back, chambering the first round. Rodney squeezed the trigger.
The heavy slugs slammed into ranks of the German forces, two Germans were caught full in the chest and crumpled to the dirt. One of them was hit in the side and spun like a twister to the ground. Those charging had hit the dirt for any available cover. The bright tracers shot out of the machinegun like fireballs, burning the air with each passing second. Alas, he was firing the gun too long.
"Rodney, short bursts! Short bursts!" ordered Paine.
Rodney released the trigger and squeezed off a staccato of bullets, about seven to ten rounds per bursts.
The riflemen were growing confident. No longer were they fully ducking behind cover but now pouring on the fire against the Germans.
The machinegun emptied. As soon as the gun was silent, heavy fire from the Germans erupted on the MG position. They knew the Americans were reloading.
"Dunlop, get that weapon loaded!" Rodney screamed, burying his head in the earth to dodge the bullets.
Paine grunted in frustration, he snapped to his radioman, "Buff! Help me give 'em cover!"
Paine leveled his carbine to his shoulder; their flare was beginning to die out. He could see the Germans slowly advancing over to where they were. Paine was firing as quickly as he could pull the trigger. Buff wasn't as vigorous in the action as Paine was, but he too began opening fire with his carbine.
In his firing, Paine was elated that their prior skirmishing gambit had paid off. The Germans were advancing cautiously in a stop-aim-fire movement, instead of trying to charge as quickly as possible to get in grenade throwing distance. They didn't want to overcommit to what they imagined may be a temporary line-of-defense, not knowing this was the line-of-defense.
As the gun was reloading, Paine could hear Lieutenant Pollard calling on the radio for a 1-0-5 barrage.
Dunlop slammed down the hatch on the ammo and Rodney resumed firing. A squad of Grenadiers were reinforcing from the left. Paine shouted to Dunlop, the assistant gunner, "Shift Rodney's fire to the left."
Dunlop shouted to Rodney, "Left! Left! Shift left, Rodney!" And was waving his arm to the left.
The barrel of the MG pivoted to the left and raked the incoming squad. The gunner was not omniscient. When he stares down the sights of the MG in the heat of battle, his peripheral vision turns to tunnel-vision. This was especially true at night. The gunner needs an assistant to shout in their ear and point where to fire. To fully utilize a machinegun to 100% efficiency is not a one-man job.
The slugs raked the ground in front of the Germans. They slowly began to stop firing to take whatever cover they could try to find; some were trying to dig through the dirt just to escape this murderous fire. With the machineguns and rifles firing, the German assault was thoroughly suppressed.
A fierce explosion suddenly erupted among the suppressed ranks of the Germans. The blast was so spontaneous that it even shook the Americans. The ground thundered with the boom. Soon, more explosions were landing among the prone enemy. Pieces of limbs and cries in German were being thrown in the air.
Some of the Germans panicked and immediately stood up, only for Rodney to gun them down with his machinegun. Another shell exploded on top of the Germans, then another, soon the 1-0-5s were dropping an entire barrage on the pinned-down platoon.
Paine was excited. They executed a textbook technique; pin down the infantry with automatic fire and rain down artillery on top of them. The Germans were effectively pinned down from the savage assault.
As the German dead and wounded were mounting up, the German attack from the center and flank withered away with the survivors falling back.
A lull occurred on the field. Several moans and Germanic calls of help rang out. Some riflemen took shots at the crying, it then grew quiet over the sector.
By now, American and German weapons were firing all over the vicinity of Hill 317, echoing throughout the night sky. If one listened closely, they could hear the fire coming from behind the hill where 2nd Platoon was, and the west where 3rd Platoon was. The two German divisions were attacking in force.
"How many casualties?" Lieutenant Pollard asked in exhaustion.
"Eight. Three dead," Sergeant Fischer told him.
Pollard shuddered, "God… uh, okay, uh, get the five remaining wounded and have them taken back to the hill triage center."
Fischer nodded, "Already on it, sir."
Pollard's hand was shaking, "That was a quarter of the platoon right there…"
Fischer looked to him, his voice was soft, "I know, sir… But you got to stow that, sir, it ain't over yet, the Krauts are gonna hit us again pretty soon."
"Gil, do you copy!"
Both men turned to the frantic Paine who was yelling in a whisper, "Gil, come in, what's your status?"
Paine could hear the machinegun firing on the other end. He heard Greg's voice, but something was off with it. It was slow and slurred. "Greg… G-Greg?"
"I'm here, Gil! What's it like over there? Speak to me, man!"
"Am-Ammo's low… Tito is on the gun and Quinn's dead, Greg. So are three of the riflemen… Th-They got me good… I can't feel anything… Krauts… everywhere…"
"Oh God. Gil, stay with me man! Just hang on, okay?! Hang tight!" those words were so bitter to say coming out his mouth. His mind showed the image of his friend bleeding all alone and surrounded by the enemy.
"Gr-Greg… ammo's low… they killed Quinn… they killed Qui-"
A booming explosion that resembled a tank shell erupted in the distance. Paine looked up; it came from Mortain. The Germanic weapons from the town ceased firing instantly.
The radio line immediately went dead.
"G-Gil! Gil! Come in, man! Come in!"
Faint cracks of static came from the other end.
Buff looked at his sergeant with a gaze of horror. Fischer came behind Paine and uttered softly, "Greg…"
Paine furiously threw the receiver down with a savage grunt. He clenched his eyes and balled up his fists mightily.
The full blast of exhaust from a tank roared in the night, the creaking of the gears was growing louder as it came from the center field. A green flare shot into the sky above the trench of 1st Platoon. The Americans were revealed within the light. "Kraut flare!" someone announced.
The Germans began firing with alarming accuracy. The Americans in the trench began to hunker down and return fire as best they could. With the flare overtop of them, the Germans had a better line-of-sight than they did. 1st Platoon could see outlines of the Germans coming across the field. They were rushing forward in a line formation. But leading the assault was a single Panzer IV, and further up ahead was an Armored Car, speeding down the field and rapidly firing its 20mm gun at the trench.
Paine ran back to Dunlop and Rodney, "Boys!" he screamed to be heard. "Switch to A-P! Switch the ammo now!"
The two gunners immediately began to get to work switching the ammo. The Armored Car and Panzer were speeding up with a squad of infantry right behind them. The gunners broke the case for the armor-piercers and laid the belt into the feed. The Krauts were closing in with a rush of grenades, each explosion getting closer. Paine threw his carbine down and started throwing his own grenades as hard as he could. He didn't expect to get one, but hopefully the explosions would keep them at bay.
Dunlop slapped the hatch down, Rodney chambered the round, "A-P loaded!" he announced.
"Let 'em have it!"
Rodney squeezed the trigger hard and didn't even bother with burst-fire. Paine anxiously watched the tracers soaring at the Armored Car's front hull. He could hear the thump of the rounds hitting the metal. A beautiful sound that was. A ping meant rounds bounced off, miniature thumps meant actual penetration. The Armored Car came to a stop and its cannon didn't fire any further rounds.
"Armored Car is neutralized," Dunlop cheered.
"Good! Target the infantry!" The tank was still coming forward, but Paine knew damn well that their AP rounds wouldn't even dent the armor of the tank.
Paine could overhear the lieutenant, "Fischer, I'm calling a fire mission! Take over the platoon!"
"Yes, sir! C'mon, boys, keep the fire on! Arty's coming!"
The Germans kept encroaching closer with the grenades getting nearer to the trench. Dunlop and Rodney were continuing to fire to suppress the incoming enemy. But Paine noticed the Panzer was swiveling its cannon over to the HMG.
"Boys! Get down!" he screamed. Paine grabbed Buff and forced him to the bottom of the trench. He heard the belching of the cannon, and the explosion roared, and the earth trembled a half-second later. The flare mercifully died away at that moment.
He and Buff rose from the trench, thick smoke wafted around where the two gunners were.
"Dunlop! Rodney!"
"Oh Christ! Rodney's hit, Sarge!" came from Dunlop.
The sergeant peered over the gunner, through the dim night, Paine could see there was blood coming down Rodney's face and over his eyes. Dunlop had blood coming down the side of his head, but at least he was conscious.
"Rodney, can you hear me? How you feeling?!" It was too dark to see the extent of his wounds.
Through the storm of gunfire, Paine couldn't hear any words from Rodney, only distressed and labored heaving. He was barely moving.
The earth began to quake even more. The tank was getting closer and was prepared to fire an additional shell. But from the sky, the artillery barrage from the 1-0-5s descended onto the German assault. One round exploded near the tank, the Panzer began backing up, still firing with its coaxial machinegun against the Americans. The other Germans hit the dirt to wait out the barrage.
Paine looked to his right where Pollard was screaming into his radio, "Conti, we cannot hold! I repeat, we cannot hold this position without losing the entire platoon! Over!"
The gun! Paine recalled. He looked over the rim of the trench to get the gun back in action to ward off Jerry. There it was, an obliterated wreck, the tank shell that got Rodney had ruined the beautiful gun to a complete inoperable status. Paine was speechless.
"1st Platoon! We're falling back to the hill!" Pollard announced. "We're using the arty as cover! Get ready to move! Sergeant Fischer, get the wounded out of the trench first, everyone else, covering fire!"
The heavy slamming of the artillery began to intensify, the earth belched with thunder and lightning every other second. The firing against the Americans was slowly dying away. Paine looked to Dunlop, "You heard the L-T, get Rodney and go!"
"But Sarge, what ab—"
"Take Rodney and go!" the Sergeant repeated with a roar.
Corporal Dunlop got out of the trench, dragging Rodney out with him, then to transition him to a fireman's carry, heaving him out of there.
Paine made his way to Pollard, "Sir, I understand that we're pulling out, but what about Mortain?!" His mind still held on to Gil's voice, "Sir, if we leave now, we leave Mortain wide open!"
"We can't stay here and get chopped to pieces, Sergeant! They got us flanked from the right and are sending in armor in the center. This position is no longer tenable, we need to withdraw!"
Paine hated the idea, but he knew the officer was right. Paine looked to Buff behind him, "Go to Muniplo and Williams! Tell them to the get out and head back up the hill. You go as well!"
The radioman nodded and dashed off to do the deed. The men with automatic weapons kept firing at the Germans as the other men were assisting the wounded out of the trench and began taking them back. Pollard got on the radio for the final time and spoke to the artillery officer, "Keep the fire going. Then shift your fire on my position in 60 seconds… I confirm and say again, shift your fire on my position in 60 seconds after the end of this message. I acknowledge danger close, but they're right on top of us! Solid copy? Message confirmed! We're pulling out! Over and out!"
The lieutenant hung up and screamed, "We got arty on our position! Fall back! Fall back to the hill!"
Every man began to scramble outside the trench. The Germans were still firing at them. A few men got hit as they got, but their buddies were right next to them to help them to their feet and assist them in the withdraw. The NCOs were barking for everyone to fall back. Paine was still in the trench and secured the last two .30 cal ammo boxes under both arms and ran with the rest of the platoon. Lieutenant Pollard was the last man in the trench and got out once he was sure everyone was gone.
"Up the hill! Let's go! Get back in your secondary positions!" Fischer called out.
The beleaguered 1st Platoon was scrambling up the steep end of the hill as quick as they could. Men had to use trees and branches to level themselves, especially if they were carrying the wounded.
Conrad the Medic was on the crest of the hill, waving his arms to the men, "Bring all wounded to the triage center! It's at the very top, c'mon!"
Sergeant Paine dropped his cases of ammo and exhaled. He motioned for Dunlop to carry the unconscious Rodney to the triage. Up on the hill, was complete chaos. The booming of the 1-0-5s was virtually nonstop, Jelenic's mortars were firing a mixture of illumination and 60mm rounds in all directions, Paine could also hear the ripping of the heavy machinegun from the V.A crew by 3rd Platoon. He wanted to rush over there, but he, Pollard, and Fischer were stopped by Conti and Fats.
"Pollard, what's the skinny?" Conti requested, he was breathing hard, he had to have been running everywhere.
Pollard was gasping as well, "Half of my platoon are casualties, sir! We were flanked by the Germans from Mortain, and we could not hold."
That comment utterly startled both Conti and Fats.
"What happened to Mortain?" Fats blurted out.
"The Krauts took it!" Paine slurred with pain.
Conti pointed to him, "Your men?"
All Paine could do as shake his head.
"Dammit!" the C.O cursed. "How many guns did we lose?"
"Three," Paine admitted, shame was on the backend of his tone.
"Three?!"
"I gave two guns for Gil and the rifle squad. And a Panzer destroyed my heavy."
"Shit!"
Fischer interrupted, "W-Wait a moment, Conti, you're up here? What happened to the HQ?"
"The Krauts hit us hard and pushed us back. They took the HQ at the foot of the hill; they were overrunnin' us. 2nd Platoon is holdin' them off from the northeast approach, 3rd Platoon is holdin' them off at the southwest."
Pollard's jaw quivered, "Y-You mean—"
"We're surrounded." Conti said it curtly and with gritted teeth.
The words carried the impact of a tidal wave.
Conti shook his head, "So what? We're surrounded. Y'all three gonna cry about it?! Get back ta ya platoons and hold the line! We're not givin' up this goddamn hill!"
"Yes, sir!"
The men went their separate ways on the hill. Paine realized that Conti was right, no good came of moping during a battle. He was down three guns, but he could make do with the remaining three. He called over Muniplo and Williams to place their machinegun by 1st Platoon's position on the approach, within a sandbag bunker. Hhe told them to hold this position come hell or high water. It was their job to keep the Germans at bay. Paine knew his task for tonight would be a difficult one. They were surrounded on all sides and he would have to run the entire hill to ensure that his gunners in spaced out places were all right. But right now, he would stay with 1st Platoon, he would stay during first contact. He had to see this through.
The men of 1st Platoon could hear the grinding of tank gears growing louder. The flares from the mortars showed fast-moving silhouettes among the shadows at the base of the hill were climbing upwards. Shouts and commands in a foreign language could be heard. Paine's hand was shaking, he was not determined to fail this time. Today was August 6th, he forgot to smoke today. He took a cigarette in his mouth but chose not to light it. He would do it after it was all over. After…
Two months after Omaha… ain't that something… he thought.
"HERE THEY COME!"
If you are familiar with the game, you will note that the machinegun section implements Heavy Machineguns, which would typically be used for a Weapons Company in reality instead of a rifle company, which would be using a medium machinegun. So I kind of combined them both within the narrative of the story. Another anachronism that the game seems to get wrong...
Thanks for reading!