CHAPTER 10 "The Truth About Heroes"

June 8, 1944 (D-Day plus 2); Somewhere in the outskirts of Ste. Come-du-Mont, Normandy; France

1530 Hours

Yup, another day. Another task to be done.

First off, I don't even know who volunteered us to conduct a patrol…

Earlier today, I heard that elements of the 506th Parachute Regiment under the command of one Colonel Sink was to mount an attack against the German garrison here at Ste. Come-du-Mont; a mile south east from Ste. Mari-du-Mont. 2 more battalions would attack from the east; en route from Beaumont. And at the centre; elements of the 501st Regiment stationed north of les Driones would precede the attack.

Heh. Uttering those French names was getting me tongue-tied.

Anyway. The attack was to be initiated at dawn. 4:45 AM to be exact. And it did. My company took part of it. It was still underway, though. Until noon. Able Company was placed on reserve throughout the morning; providing supporting fire with mortars. Even though we couldn't see the events unfold, I could here from the distance the zinging of machinegun fire and the ever familiar roars of artillery. Our attack was fierce. Then I heard that the enemy had begun to withdraw.

That's where we come in.

Our patrol was designed to be swift. Only 3 people. I was in a jeep, O'Shea on the wheels. Rosenbaum was manning the radio. We were told that we are to move ahead and oversee the town of Ste. Come-du-Mont; see if the enemy had fully withdrawn. They were taking quite a beating ever since the morning. Already 4 of their counter-attacks were repulsed.

Just by the road and amidst a smouldering Panzer tank beside us; I took out my binoculars and gave a look. The town was visible from our distance, with smoke already billowing because of the barrages we inflicted upon the Germans there earlier this day. It was bordered with fences and a few electrical lines tower from the houses; typical French layout for a rural settlement.

I looked away and focused on the surrounding area. Welcoming the highway towards this town was a church; a couple of houses were outside the town as well. Cabbage patches were sprinkled about.

"The place looks empty. Quiet." I said.

I peered harder. I saw a few German soldiers emerging from one of the houses, clad in a familiar dark uniform, hauling a wagon carrying dozens of bags; equipment. A half-track towed the cart. They began to depart. To where, I don't know. But they made their way into the town. Soon they disappeared from my sight as they moved further.

I grinned. The brass was right. They're turning their tails and running.

It was time to relay back the information we had.

"Dieter. Send back to Command that the enemy has begun to withdraw from the village access."

"Javol!" ("I hear you!")

He then turned to his radio, tuning the dials as he picked up the receiver.

But something gave me a hunch. Maybe they were just mocking a retreat so that they could fall back into a place of their advantage; while we fall for it and go in pursuit and get slaughtered. The Germans have a knack to utilize that tactic well.

Anyway, we were already in a position to do something about that; exposing their scheme once friendlies come in.

"We should take a closer look. Maybe they were just prepping up in a more defensible position."

"Got it."

I sat back at the jeep. O'Shea turned on the ignition; then the vehicle began to rumble. Rumbling. Rumbling. Then it stopped. The engine died down.

"Holy shit!" O'Shea cursed.

"Turn it up again." I bid him.

He tried once more. The jeep was coughing. Still it wouldn't start.

"Shit! It ain't moving!"

The hood was fuming. It was overheated.

"Damn! They said that this jeep was in good condition!" O'Shea remarked.

"Keep trying dammit!"

He turned it up again. Still it didn't budge.

"Let me take a look." I sighed.

I stood up and went my way to the front. I opened the engine compartment; hot smoke began to billow right in front my face. Shit! I coughed out. The jeep was really hot under the collar. I grabbed a water container. I hastily poured water all over the engine. It sizzled; water meeting with heat. It cooled down; and I was optimistic to say that this time it'll work.

"Hit it again!"

Another turn to the ignition. It rumbled. Shook. Then a mechanical whirr. Stepping into the accelerator, the vehicle roared.

"I got it! I got it!"

"Let's go! Rosenbaum get in!" I jumped in.

We started to make our way towards the curve in front of us. Turned left. We drove away from the road and we went right into the hedgerows; hoping these would cover us as we moved even further towards the town. The ground was uneven, however. We had bumps with unseen stones and thick bushes. O'Shea drove slower.

"Bad idea, eh?"

"Let's get back to the road, David!"

It only took a while for us to get into the clearing; flat ground awaited us out of the bushes.

Soon we drove near the houses outside of the town; where I saw the German soldiers moving out earlier. Beside these was a steep embankment bordered with fences. We stopped the jeep.

"The place is too quiet."

I was about to step out. Our eyes were scanning every direction, especially the town itself; assessing anything that could be a threat.

And we missed one.

BANG!

It was a gunshot. Came out of nowhere.

"Shit! Sniper!" I jumped back in.

Suddenly, part of the windshield was shattered. A bullet hole was gaping; cracks resembling the intensity of the shot. We panicked just like that.

"O my God!"

"Let's get out of here!" I screamed.

We got contact. We started the vehicle again. Pressured and frightened, O'Shea was wildly turning the steering wheel; banking the jeep to right until we headed down the canal beside us, breaking the fence in the process. We ran down as fast as we can as the vehicle stopped. I could only picture the sniper's crosshairs already zeroing in on one of us. It gave me the creeps.

BANG!

A second shot.

It had hit the grass below our feet, inches between my leg and the thicket. I could estimate the shooter some 50 metres away from us.

"Everyone get down!" O'Shea barked out.

We huddled close behind the jeep, hoping that its enough to keep us covered from the sniper. I slid down with them.

"Anybody hit?" That was the first question I asked.

They shook their heads. No, they're fine.

"I think I saw the flash." Rosenbaum said to us. "Up there in the bell tower. In the church."

I looked back. That was about 20 feet away from our immediate position. The sniper's shots are crossed to us. Damn. I wished that Lieutenant Speyer was here. He could think out a way out of this predicament. Right now we were sitting ducks. The sniper was nowhere to be seen.

BANG!

A third shot.

I ducked down, without me being able to catch the muzzle flash. This time it had shattered the left strobe light of the jeep; it just missed my head. By centimetres. It ricocheted into the ground.

"Shit!" I cursed again.

I've been close to death several times already. But a call like that was really getting too uncomfortable. I was sweating hard. Damn. I almost got hit right there. Now I assumed it was time to do something. We stay here; the sniper will eventually pick us all off.

An idea blinked into my head. There was a tree in our right.

Maybe if we could…

BANG!

A fourth shot.

It had missed us entirely though. The sniper was getting too excited.

"That's 4 shots. One more and he's all out." O'Shea spoke.

"Listen guys. I'll run ahead towards that tree. I'll bait him out of his nest. When he comes out to shoot, nab him!" I ordered.

I began to remove my bandoleers and the rest of my gear; saving me up some weight when I run.

"No way! You serious?"

"You're going to get yourself killed." Rosenbaum remarked.

"I know. But what can I say?"

"Don't be a hero! The last thing we all want is somebody dead in a patrol."

"Just focus and shoot that asshole, OK?"

They were hesitant. It was a risky plan. But they could have thought anything aside from that. Anyway it was better than getting shot without doing something.

Dieter tapped me in the back. "Hey, Turner. Viel Gluk…"

"Now what does that mean Rosenbaum?" I frowned.

"German for 'good luck'. I think you're gonna need it." He grinned.

We were all set in no time. Their rifles cocked and armed. Me myself unarmed. Only my binoculars with me. I was going to run towards that tree in our right; hopefully hidden from the sniper's line of fire if I did; consequently making him pop out so that David and Dieter can get him out from his hiding spot. I took a deep breath. I was sweating. Yet I tried to focus on the task at hand.

Heh. I forgot to pray.

"You guys ready?"

"Ready when you are." O'Shea replied

I didn't mind to wait for the last shot. I crouched.

"OK on 3! One…two…three!" Then I dashed forward, sprinting as fast as I can.

BANG!

The fifth shot.

It had hardly hit me. But it sounded close. I swear I could feel the bullet zipping past my shoulder. A trail of heat went by my skin. The sound of cloth being sliced got me the scare. I ducked down the moment I was already near the tree. I thought by then that I was hit.

The sniper's firing generated a flash. O'Shea was able to point it out.

"I see him! Open fire!"

They shot at the shooter's direction. The let loose 8 rounds all in all.

"Got him!"

I raised my head up to look at the bell tower. I was shaking. My heart kept on pounding. I dared to bring up my binoculars. Nobody was there. I'd be damn sure that he's dead.

"You OK Robert?" He gave me my rifle.

"Yeah…barely hit me but I'm fine…"

We all took a deep breath. That was fast. Heart-racing. I stood up, the 10 second tension still fresh in my head. I suddenly felt that my shoulder stings. My skin burns quite a bit. The shot with my name on it missed me, but it did give a scratch.

"Let's go. We aren't finished, yet."

O'Shea and Rosenbaum began went back to the jeep. We were getting ready to move out again. The patrol wasn't done yet.

After all that, it's like business as usual.

It was the first time I felt a bullet touch me. Even if it didn't really harmed me. That moment was surely hard to forget.

"Damn…that guy was REALLY aiming at me…" I murmured.

"TURNER! LOOK OUT!"

It was David. He yelled at me. I turned to him. He was pointing something; in my direction. I turned around.

"Holy shit!" I cursed.

It was a German, out of nowhere, emerging from his covers; in the hedgerows right beside us. A Wermacht soldier clad a bit in camouflage. The square-like helmet was the first thing that made me recognize him as a hostile. And he was just 3 metres from me; aiming his gun at my face. An MP40 right at me.

And he was charging.

Then it was something strange. Seconds slugged around me. Tension. As if my heart and breathing ceased. But I wasn't savouring this moment. I found myself mindlessly gripping my rifle and hoisting it up my arms. But back then, I wasn't thinking. I was in awe. A German, right in front of me; just popped, up close and personal for God's sake. I was terrified. This guy was going to kill me.

I hesitated. Time froze. Like a picture-perfect scene. I was lifeless. Motionless. A reflection of what could happen to me. But I gave myself a mental punch to the face. No. I can't die. I stared at the German's finger; already ready to pull the trigger. I managed to beat him.

BANG!

It was a quick-draw. I fired. I shot him. Just one round, planted to his chest.

The gunfire catapulted me back. Back from the time lapse. I blinked.

"O my God!"

With my senses back, I was surprised at the sudden turn of events. My eyes were wide.

I shot him. The German gasped. His eyes shot wide open. He limped as he fell down, staggering into the ground; falling forward because of the bit of speed he had made when he charged to me. He was lying flat at his back; his eyes staring out into the sky. And in that moment, I knew he was dead. His skin was pale in an instant; the blood from his chest grew bigger.

BANG!

Fuck! What the hell I just did?

I fired again. This time, it chipped at his shoulder. Skin, tissue and clothing splotched from the impact; staining the grass with a red spray. I don't know why I did it. I tried to calm down. But like the fallen right before me, my eyes were wide. I was sweating. Beading at my forehead. I was breathing hard as my heart continued to throb. It just happened so damn fast.

My finger was still shaking at trigger. I was still eager to fight. Come on! Stand up! Stand up! You bastard!

"Robert!" O'Shea ran towards me.

I managed to calm down, a bit. My face frowned as I went towards the fallen man. I was cautious in my steps; knowing that another surprise might happen. My shots would have not yet killed him. But my conscience kept clanging my bell. He's dead! Calm down Robert! Yet the attitude towards hostility clouded my thoughts. Even though the German dead before me was lifeless, I still aimed at him. This time at his head. I was anticipating another sign of movement, I was in tension.

"Robert?"

But soon my breathing returned to normal. All the feeling was gone. I took a deep sigh. Collecting my thoughts, I realized I just survived an attack that could have ended my life. I glanced closer to the aftermath of everything. Then I turned to soldier I killed.

For the first time, I was eager to see the face of my kill; of a German whom I overcome.

I wanted a closer look.

"Jesus!" I yelped.

I was stricken.

He wasn't like any German grunt I faced.

No.

…

He was a kid.

"Turner!" Rosenbaum shouted. He ran towards me.

I didn't budge.

"Shise! It's just a boy!" He turned to me, "Are you alright, Robert?"

It was a teenager. A lad. For God's sake! I just killed a kid…

My mind squeezed shut. I was left staring at the corpse of that young fellow.

"Are you OK?" Rosenbaum asked again.

There is a difference between a kill and a murder. I knew that. But it was hard to classify what I did. I just ended a young man's life. A 16 year old. I began to weep. No. I shouldn't. Anguish began to form in my face. I tried to wipe it off with my hands. Those guilty hands.

O'Shea tapped my back. Rosenbaum ran back to the jeep to get the radio; call in the rest of the regiments that it is clear to move in towards the town.

He began to call out. I could hear him. But his voices faded in my mind. The only word I could hear was a monotonous one. And it kept echoing throughout my brain. Throughout my conscience. It kept calling me "Murderer…"

Was it guilt?

O'Shea was right. The world is a cruel place. There are no such things as good guys.

Funny as hell, this is the truth about heroes.

There are none.

The sun set with guilt in my face. Not even the road and stares and chatter of others woke me up. Staring at my hands. I was reproaching myself. What have I done?

-TO BE CONTINUED-