The descending sun broke its way through the disorganisation of the tree branches, spraying the woodland floor with a cacophony of hues of an aura that glimmered as it dropped. The red-orange-yellow of the sky blared deep into the beckoning astral space, time to rest. The trees nodded in agreement to the suns suggestion and rocked their branches in time to the breeze, leaves striking with all manners of green and auburn. For several British paratroopers moving through this sight, they had to keep moving. They had just escaped the closest encounter any of them had ever been in; luckily, the Germans hadn't given chase.
McIntyre stopped first, the rest of his teammates soon followed suit. He slung his Sten and leaned against a tree, a branch sticking into his side slightly. He slid the helmet from his head and gave a sigh of relief.
"Well lads, looks like we'll need to find a spot to sleep. Don't suppose the Germans will be bothering us for a while, bunch of lazy buggers. Not far now. Donahue, you've got point, lets keep it together."
He replaced his helmet and Donahue slinked forward to head the group to their resting place for the night. McIntyre walked past Williams and checked his wound in a passing glance. Miller, who had kept quiet until now, chirped up at McIntyre in a more inquisitive tone than he was used to.
"Sir," he began, "Why are you so protective of Private Williams? You keep looking at him to make sure he's all right. Is something bothering you?"
McIntyre turned his head to Miller and arched his back to put out any cricks in his spine. "Well," McIntyre looked like he would be a while, "Williams and myself were part of a special detachment of two squads to aid in a special operation of clearing out a few German garrisons. I was in a squad with Williams, led by captain Thornton, and we were to meet up with the second squad a few miles east of the Clamont Chateau. There were six of us in that squad. Me, Captain Thornton, Williams, and Privates Wilson, Tomkins, and Rupert. We reached our waypoint, but the second squad hadn't. We waited for a few hours in the dark and gloom but they didn't arrive, so we went on ahead. The next few miles of French soil were deserted of any German activity. We used a radio at one of the Garrisons to call in for assistance and got information that meant that we needed to do the mission even more importantly than before. Some yanks were preparing for a mission across Normandy; we had to clear the following towns to keep their mission going as smooth as possible."
He wiped his brow and continued, "We reached St Fredrique du Clamont at about early morning. We weren't expecting that much resistance, nevertheless I went forward to check the coast was clear. Everything seemed to be okay and I called Tomkins to follow me. That's when the MG42 opened up and got him. We all leapt for cover. Thornton was telling us to keep our heads down, when his got blown off. So, there was me, Williams, Wilson, and Rupert left pinned by this machinegun. I gave the call for covering fire so I could make a run closer to the farmhouse, and being good mates, they obeyed and started firing back. Rupert got hit in the shoulder, and needed help. I reached the wall and Williams, Rupert and Wilson followed on the right flank past the haystacks. Wilson was carrying Rupert on his back, and they lagged back for too long. If I had told them to stay back, then none of this would've happened. Williams is the last man left of our squad. I can't do this mission without him."
Miller lowered his head in respect; "Sorry sir, didn't realise" He shuffled back into formation with the squad and continued moving with them.
Donahue halted and lowered himself, "Sir! Come here, there's something you should see" McIntyre crept up beside Donahue, woodland foliage crunching beneath his feet no matter what he did. Donahue pointed to the distance, to a pool of orange light that sat quite comfortably in the woodland view.
Donahue turned to McIntyre, "I think it's a shack of sorts. Could be German, could be French Resistance, I'm not entirely sure. We'd best go just a little closer, just to be on the safe side" He put one step forward and the door to the distant shack opened.
Each soldier aimed their weapons to the oncoming figure, and peeked from around the trees, to give some sort of cover to them. The figure was alone, and looked to have no weapons. Each step it took went harshly against the leaves and grass of the woodland surface. It gradually slowed down to a still standing motion, but began to frantically look around, as if to be looking for the soldiers.
McIntyre swung from behind his tree and aimed the gun at the figure's head, "Don't dare do anything stupid," he threatened into her ear. Her? He moved back in amazement to see the figure in the remaining light of the day.
Although her face looked delicate, it was beaten and grimy from what appeared to be several days hard work. She wore a French soldiers jacket that looked a bit too big for her, but seemed to suit her frame. Her boots were coated in a thick layer of clag and mud from working in the woods. Her hair swung elegantly down from her head and caught the suns rays in a suffusion of bronzed blonde that looked out of place with the rest of her worn apparel. As she turned, McIntyre saw the beauty of her eyes that radiated like pearls from the deepest dark of subterranean bliss.
She looked at each soldier in turn, frightened as to what they would do. Then she spoke up, "Are you the British paratroops?" her accent rising and falling with each word, McIntyre shook himself from the transfixing sight, "Why yes, we are proud members of her majesties armed forces, why do you ask?"
"You must follow me, quick. There is not much time" She grabbed hold of McIntyre's arm and led them away to her home in the woods. Miller slung his rifle and looked to Williams, "Finally" he said relieved, "a bloody break."
