Midday. The coastal breeze eerily drifted away to a wither, then to nothing. Clouds rose from their slumber and flooded the sky, blotting the sun and its astral playground in drear. The Germans had brought the storm. The tiniest drop dived to earth, closely followed by his brothers and sisters, all differing in shape and size, but this was never to be taken notice of. They churned the earth to clag and mud, which clung to anything that touched it, especially German boots, boots that paced around the small village square of St Fredrique du Clamont.
Concealed inside the thatched buildings of the village lay five British paratroops, their eagle-eyed comrade perched in the now drenched canopy of an overlooking tree. They cowered in the damp and dank rooms of the rural village, the German soldiers securing the perimeter of the courtyard. McIntyre leaned toward Miller and whispered into his ear, "Remember, hold your fire until Donahue takes out the Half-track commander, then we'll take them out in a cross-fire" Similarly, in the house facing to their left Privates Williams and Johnson were discussing what they should do. A leak from the roof tapped on Williams' helmet, he took it off, then quickly replaced it when the frigid rain water impacted on his head. Johnson shuffled himself into comfort and queried Williams, "What do we do? They're coming this way" Williams peered through the window to see three German troops making their way to the house. Williams noticed the stairs and grabbed Johnson; he dragged him up the creaky and soft wooden stairway to the second floor. Much like the farmhouse, the walls were painted blue, but the moisture caused the paint to flake and peel like decomposing flesh. The short corridor resulted in three rooms, to which Williams pulled Johnson into the one facing the courtyard. They could still see the Germans advancing through the village, when the front door of the first floor flung open.
Miller and McIntyre saw in horror the Germans search the house where Johnson and Williams lurked. McIntyre gripped his Sten tighter and felt like biting a hole through his lip in anxiety. Miller hauled McIntyre's attention to the half-track where a tall figure with a noble officers cap emerged. He stretched himself and stood upon the rain beaten floor of the courtyard. His leering eyes burnt a way through the German soldiers standing in attention to his appearance. He slowly walked toward the farmhouse and signalled to two soldiers. They agreed and scurried off to the half-track. Although he had only been outside for a matter of seconds, his trench coat was dyed a darker shade of leather and his expression was unwavering in its grimace. All that needed to be done was for Donahue to take his shot, and they could get this horrible task over and done with.
Donahue couldn't do anything. He didn't mind the lashing of the rain, or the biting cold that came consequently, it was what he saw that shook him to the spot. He had peered through his sniper scope to check the area while he waiting for the commanding German officer to rear his head and saw the worst possible thing imaginable. Not too far in the east, marching, grinding and roaring along the dirt road were two tanks and a platoon of German soldiers. If they attacked now they'd be dead. Nevertheless, no one else could comprehend what stilled Private Donahue.
Private Finlay grew impatient. The German commander had been strolling in the open for ages, why hadn't Donahue taken his shot? He had been lying in the roof of one of the houses, where unaware to him, several German soldiers were exploring. He could see the courtyard through a gap in the thatch work of the roof, the rain patted and tumbled onto the barrel of his support gun, but he never budged. The commander began to make his way back to the half-track, and Finlay didn't need any more persuasion. He flicked open the sight of his weapon and glared down at the commander. He pulled the pin of his gun back and opened fire. The bullets spat and zinged through the air, the commander didn't have time to react. He was broken down to the mud by frantic heavy machine gun fire. Finlay also managed to bring down a few other German soldiers. The boom of his weapon alerting them, but not soon enough, as they were torn asunder by high calibre rifle rounds expelled with demented force. When the Germans inside Finlay's house heard the resonating thunder of Finlay's Bren gun, they readied their weapons and ripped several rounds each into the ceiling. The burning sting of rifle fire ripped through Finlay, first his left leg, then several through his chest. The soldiers held their fire only to have their suspicion confirmed when crimson liquid began trickling from the holes in the ceiling and forming pools on the already rouge carpeting.
The second the others heard Finlay open fire; chaos erupted. Miller and McIntyre began targeting German troops and squaring rounds into them. This unwittingly drew out the Germans from Finlay's house, McIntyre tearing one down who was unlucky enough to march straight out into the open, bullets bearing down into his upper torso. Miller took more care with his fire, he saw one through a window and shot. The round span through the air and connected with the German's side, he collapsed to the floor and wailed in agony. Johnson and Williams still sat huddled in the upstairs of their house. Neither one wanted to risk opening fire on the Germans in case they were caught unaware and killed. Unfortunately, the Germans in their house had sheltered themselves in the lower floor and were returning fire to Miller and McIntyre. Johnson held himself and buried his face in panic.
Donahue was stricken with disbelief, what the fuck were they doing? Seeing that there was nothing better to do, he took a deep breath and aimed. Three catastrophically loud cracks were heard, and three Germans inside Johnson and Williams' house fell lifelessly to the floor. Miller and McIntyre took this as their opportunity and darted outside to Finlay's house. The other Germans were suppressed and couldn't shoot back in risk of being sniped by Donahue. The rain continued to barrage the area and ding off Millers' helmet. McIntyre prepped a grenade and ordered Miller to open the back door to Finlay's house. Miller swung open the door and McIntyre hurled the grenade in. They ducked behind a fallen tree and shielded themselves from the blast. The house shook like a paper model in the wind and the sound of commotion died.
Williams looked from his window to see the house opposite ignite and usher forth all manners of masonry, glass and bits of body. He looked to his right and saw Johnson sobbing in the corner. "Not like this" he murmured to himself. Williams picked up his rifle and creaked the door open. Johnson didn't even notice he was gone. Williams slinked down the corridor to hear the Germans in their alarm. His understanding of German was not as good as McIntyre's, all he could make out was, "Hopeless" and "Forgive". He glanced down the stairs to see the remaining two German soldiers and how it reminded him of himself and McIntyre just yesterday. He held back a tear of pity and stealthily manoeuvred down the stairs. He pulled back the bolt of his rifle and aimed for the soldiers head, at least they wouldn't suffer. He fired. The other German soldier was sprayed with the claret of his friend, and spun to see Williams loading his rifle again. The German squeezed the trigger the instance that Williams did. Both slumped to the floor.
