CHAPTER 4 "Beyond What Was Expected"

En route to D-17; 2 kilometres from Foucarville, Normandy; France

D-Day; 0090 Hours

Using the trees to cover our advance, we crouched and steadily made our way; with the darkness to render us like shadows. The landings haven't stopped yet; nor the tracers and heavy gunfire shooting up into the skies. Dozens of planes still litter the blanket of the night above; while parachutes seem like stars as they fall like mushrooms from heaven.

Past the trees that envelope us is a road; presumably one that will lead to Route D-17. Captain Collins was behind me; O'Shea and Lieutenant Speyer taking point. Suddenly they stopped by a steep rise.

"Hold up!" they signalled.

"German patrol 20 metres just ahead."

Damn…Perfect. Well, that was fast.

The Captain ordered, "Everyone stay put and hold your fire."

He then made his way to O'Shea; see for himself what just lay ahead.

"2 trucks hauling German soldiers, sir. Right up there." Speyer pointed out.

Using his binoculars, Captain Collins gave a closer look.

"Shit. They ain't just any regulars."

"Sir?"

"They got FG-42s. Automatic rifles, or some sort."

I was able to picture the Germans even though I could not see them. FG-42s? Damn. We're up against elite soldiers; paratroopers like us. Of course we should have known. The German Fallschirmjager had elements that are stationed everywhere holding key locations and garrisons all over Normandy. The road to Route D-17 was no exception.

"I count 8…10…14 paratroopers disembarking."

"We can take them. We outnumber them by two men."

"Yeah but they have those FG-42s. We attack now we'll get sliced up."

Fallschirmjager Gewher 42. Literary translated as Paratrooper's Rifle model 1942. 10 or 20 they could hold. Fully automatic; giving German paratroopers considerable suppressing fire capability. A compact machine-gun in other words. Or maybe a compact machine-gun with a scope if they had the other variants of it.

"We let them sit or move away. Then we go forward." The Captain ordered.

He was probably right. M1A1 Carbines, Garands, Tommies and one Browning Automatic makeup the only variety we had up against the Germans for now. We can't match their firepower. We attack now and they have the defender's advantage.

But minutes later surely proved that somethings happen, even if they're beyond what was expected.

"What the fuck?" O'Shea cursed. "They're heading this way sir!"

"Damn it!" The Captain looked again.

The situation was worse than we've assessed. The troops deployed were actually…looking for us. I managed to make my way to Lieutenant Speyer; trying to see what did O'Shea meant. I was stunned to see heavily armed men, clad in distinctive German airborne uniforms, spread in formation as they're heading into the forest; into us. I could hear the orders barked out coming from them, in a language I couldn't comprehend. But somehow, they haven't seen us yet.

I looked at Captain Collins and he was surely stunned. His eyes were focused onto the scene of the advancing Germans; as if praying that they turn around and head another direction. But no.

It is really tough being a leader. Especially in a situation like this if things go way out of hand.

"Everyone, lock and load!" He ordered.

The rest quickly followed, huddling themselves to cock their firearms. McCarran went up to me.

"What the hell's going on Turner?"

"German paratroopers heading this way." My reply was straight-forward.

"Shit…Don't tell me we're gonna take them down?"

He knew the dangers of it as well.

The Captain made his way back to the rest of the group, O'Shea and Speyer with him. That moment on, I knew that a fire fight was bound to happen. All 16 of us made a quick run back to assume a better advantage. Yup, the best idea for now is to run.

"Johnson, Owens, same routine. Set up a defensive position at our left flank. Dwight and Helmsley take our right. O'Shea, McCarran and Turner, you guys with me and we'll take centre. The rest take up firing positions in the rear. Everyone be ready to use your grenades."

I suddenly felt tension. The same fear and anxiety came over me once again as they once did over an hour ago. But that was the jump. This time it was about the battle looming just in front of us. Sweat beaded my forehead as my heart thudded faster.

We all took up our respective places. Weapons at hand, we waited.

I prayed that the night and trees should give us an advantage. We were now on the defensive. Anticipating the sudden stomp of a boot to the grass beneath us was what we're waiting for. Hopefully, it'll come from them. But the last thing we need is that they'll see us in an instant. And we'll be duck-shoot for those FG-42s.

I closed my eyes.

There came silence. A deafening one.

I filtered all the other murmurs of my consciousness and of everything around me. I just waited for the voices of those Germans. That was my signal.

"God Almighty, be my strength; be my stronghold. Upon Your rock my enemies will not topple down on me. Only You alone are my light against the darkness they cast upon me…"

O'Shea was murmuring those phrases; repeating them again and again and again. He too was getting scared and anxious.

"Calm down, David." I bid him.

He wouldn't listen. I could see the tension in his eyes.

Moments later the brief silence I had was blinded by a light. A lamp. The Germans came prepared with oil lamps as they begin to scour the trees. They made their way to the small rise; the same place where O'Shea and Lieutenant Speyer halted to warn us of them.

I cleared my throat and I aimed my rifle at the leading Germans. At the same time, I was waiting for Captain Collins' signal. His hand was held up. Hold your fire. The finger in his Tommy was shaking at the trigger.

Every footstep the krauts made was a sign of strain. At any moment, they could spot us with their lights. Then all hell will break loose. Fortunately they haven't seen us yet. The lights in their lamps were shining at the wrong place; I assessed 10 metres away from the right of our nearest man. Still they kept on searching.

They were already in our firing range.

Then…

"OPEN FIRE!"

That single voice stunned the Germans; a split-second they took a look around. We we're at their right.

We all fired at them. Bodies started to go down and tumble. They made attempts to fire back. Their coveted FG-42s did little work. The battle going on was strictly close quarters. Soon the gunfire became synonymous with screams and the bouncing of ejecting brass. Bullets zip past the trees, grass and the ground. Ricochets bouncing barks and soil.

I was shooting wildly, taking down two Germans as they tried to flee. My first shots. My first kills.

Ping! All out. That noise gave me even more pressure as I clumsily opened my bandoleer and get another clip. I didn't count the rounds. As if one squeeze of the trigger, all 8 bullets were used up.

The Germans were caught in disarray. Yet they nabbed us. MP40s, FG-42s and Kar98s were shot back at our positions.

"Man down!"

The guy called Helmsley was shot dead in the chest.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!"

"Lewis is hit!" One cried out.

No one headed his call. His voice died down as gunfire intensified.

I was the only one who could have heard it.

"McCarran! Help him out!" I screamed.

"Got ya'! O'Shea cover me!"

Did I forget to tell that he's the only medic in our group? And a quickster too.

He made a quick sprint amidst all the shooting. He lay next to me. The Germans suddenly whittled down in numbers. Hugh ran to where Lewis was; lying down flat in his back.

"Fire in the hole!" Speyer threw a grenade into the retreating Germans; who had no time to run. Like cowards, they tried to run.

"Granate! Granate!"

BOOM! It was too late for them.

I could assess that they were all taken out by the resulting explosion. Yet everyone continued to fire, even though the smoke was billowing. Nobody fired back at us.

No more gunfire.

No more screams…

There came the silence that resumed once more. Smoke from our barrels smoulder the trees.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Captain Collins screamed.

I couldn't get my finger away from the trigger. I took deep breaths as my eyes scanned the results ensued. It was hard to believe that it was over. It seemed that it took minutes before we all took a breather. My heart kept pounding; echoing the series of gunfire I've heard.

"Everyone all right?"

All of us nodded. I looked at McCarran, tending at the wounded guy named Lewis.

"Lewis is dead…"

That answer was followed by a bitter expression in his face. His eyes looked, however, that he had seen this before.

"You alright, Hugh?" I asked.

"Yeah…yeah…"

"Good job guys…let's move out…leave the bodies…" Captain Collins ordered.

Wiping the sweat from my face, I followed his lead. The rest were with me, while McCarran and O'Shea lag behind; assuming they were watching our backs. We kept a sharp eye out; weapons at hand as we readied ourselves for any post-encounter threats.

My first action was just beginning…

We made our way to the abandoned trucks, used by the Germans earlier. Speyer, however, seemed to have taken interest in them. The Captain knew what was on his mind.

"Speyer, care to drive?"

"Sure…"

What the hell are they thinking?

"Good." The Captain replied, "We'll just drive our way to Beuzeville with this."

"Yes sir. Hope none of them krauts spot us hijacking their truck." Speyer spoke with a grin.

"Everybody get your butts here! We're going in for a drive by."

A mix of joy, laughter and awe were at their faces. Captain Collins can't be serious! Driving into enemy territory with that? My mind assessed their motives as the rest huddled into the back.

One fact of war: anything beyond what was expected is bound to happen.

McCarran was gloomy, very unlikely of him. O'Shea patted his back as the engine began to sing with a metallic purr. What's wrong with him?

Accommodating himself at the front seat, Captain Collins said to us, "Move it ladies! Get in the back of the truck!"

-TO BE CONTINUED-