CHAPTER 12 "Each Other"

Ellsworth, Kansas; 1939

Saturday

"Hey! Aren't you going to Mr. Doe's place?" George shouted out.

"I can't hear you, George!" I yelled back.

"What the hell are you doing up that water tower, Robert?"

"Cleaning the rust! I'll be done later!"

"Aren't you going to Mr. Doe's house?" Chris hollered.

"Later! I'm busy!"

They walked away.

"Whatever, man. Come on Chris, we got to get back to the farm."

"Let me guess. You're going to milk the cows?"

"And help me rake off some cow shit in the hay store. My dad's gonna kill me if I'm not done by lunch time."

"Whoa! You're not going to expect me to get my hands all shitty would you?"

"Heh. Good luck Chris!" I shouted.

"Shut up, Turner!"

Cow shit, Jesus…

Luckily, my hands won't smell once I'm done with this. It's just rust, anyway. The morning sun was scorching hot, though. The cap I was wearing wasn't enough to shield me from the heat. I brought up a towel and placed it like a shawl on my head. I was sweating already even though I had only started a few minutes ago.

They mentioned earlier about Mr. Doe. Today was a Saturday, and as usual I have to help him in his house. This time around, however, I'm supposed to help him carry the boxes stashed at his backyard and drive them into town. Probably he's going to deliver them. But I didn't even know what on earth is inside them.

Honestly, I began to have suspicions to the kind old man. He's been acting strange lately. He drives his car out almost every night; only to return tomorrow morning. He doesn't even come out from his home anymore. And he's been doing this since last week.

I remembered that last week, when I read the newspaper, that cops in Chicago had just confiscated a warehouse worth of illegal firearms and bootlegs. Investigators believed that the place was used as storage by the mafia during the 20's; forgotten and abandoned when the syndicates were counting their days. Yet they found out that some had just been delivered recently. Their records show that a handful of these were ordered from Florida, New Jersey, Wisconsin and Kansas.

Mr. Doe said to me that he has a little problem with the bank downtown. Ironically, it was the same bank in which Gretchen was planning to go to work to. Other than that, he said nothing more. My dad, already suspicious of him, assumed that the old man had a dispute with his loans and interest. Quite common for some folks in this neighbourhood. Maybe the guy's gone broke.

I shook my head. Why would I be thinking like this?

I have respects for the old man. Mr. Doe helped me from becoming a bum the past months. Yet, I was becoming doubtful of him.

Funny.

The problem of deducing someone of a crime is that when it started, it is awfully hard to stop. I know that first impressions last; but having a sudden twist of acting could lead to something. Still, I wasn't supposed to suspect Mr. Doe of anything wrong. Still, I put my trust in him; just like as I would if I'm stranded in an island with only a handful of people to talk to.

June 11, 1944 (D-Day plus 5); Madeleine River Crossing, outside Carentan, Normandy; France

0620 Hours

They were shooting at us. The Germans on the other side of the river were trying to fend us off. Across Madeleine River is a small cluster of trees divided by the road that Bridge #3 led to. The krauts were there. Earlier last night, they threw everything at us. Mortars and Flak 88s. But today, it's quite odd. They were taking puck shots. Rifles only. Hmm.

"This is Able Company calling to Six-Seven. Able Company to Six-Seven. Do you read? Over."

"Try it again, Rosenbaum…" I bid him.

"Able Company calling to Six-Seven. We need immediate artillery support in our position. Do you read?"

Nobody was calling back. The faint buffering of the radio indicated no response.

Damn.

"Shise. They aren't responding, Robert. Damn them!"

Looks like we have no such thing as luck this morning. Dieter has been calling out in that radio of his for an hour now.

"Just keep calling. I'll go back to Captain Collins; tell him that the 67th isn't answering."

"Javol. Remember to stay in the ditch and keep your head down. They got snipers out there."

"Yeah. Yeah. Don't remind me…"

I made my way across the trench. Just as Dieter said. Paratroopers were huddled across the rise; keeping them covered from the Germans on the other side of the river; already trying to pick us off with rifles. Quick shots from them only hit our covers. Gunshots were synchronized with bullet ricochets at our position. Nobody from us even dared to shoot back. Except for a few guys earlier.

They're dead now.

Captain Collins was there, near a few paratroopers tending to their radio.

"No response from 67 sir." I reported. "Nobody is calling back. Rosenbaum is still trying, though."

"Goddamn!" he cursed "Jacobs, anything?"

"No sir. Can't get an answer from them either."

"Keep trying. The Germans got their shots criss-crossed to us. We can't soften them up with artillery then we ain't moving on from here. Any word from the 502nd?"

"Nothing. Their radio must be down, sir."

What a predicament. Today is probably a stalemate. After all we've done last night?

Last night we were able to reach H Company, amidst bullets ringing our ears. But the situation was worse than we thought. Their immediate support, Fox Company, is also under heavy fire. They were forced to pull out as well, leaving a large line on the brink of breaking just for us to handle. The Germans let loose with MG-42s; two of ours got killed. Captain Collins was forced to spread us too thin. 1st Platoon on the right bank, 2nd Platoon on the left. We maintained that position up till today; up till morning.

Behind us is an assortment of paratroopers from the 506th. The 502nd is a few kilometres away from our immediate position. Other than them, we have nobody left to help us out. The 327th and 401st Glider Companies were told to flank Carentan from the left as I heard; with the 501st as their support. Yet all attack groups made no further advances. O'Shea was right. Carentan was one tough nut to crack.

To make it even worse, we have no artillery, air or tank support whatsoever. And we are taking quite a beating. For 2 hours now. Help would come later in the day, as Command had stated.

But there is still hope. From a distance, a volley of mortars was fired. Not at us. But at the krauts on the other side. We all turned our heads. It was from B Company. An idea blinked in the Captain's head.

"What about the mortars from Baker Company? Can you call them, Turner?"

Oh yeah. I forgot about them…

"I'll tell Rosenbaum, sir."

"Good. Jacobs, keep tuning in to Six-Seven and contact them if they answer."

I returned to Dieter, we were only 10 men apart. Bullets keep zipping past my head. Rosenbaum was there. Still keeping his head down, still busy dialling the tuners on the radio. His eyes were still focused. Any sort of distraction would not make him to budge. Kind of weird for a German guy like him. I thought krauts always get paranoid even in a situation like this.

As I came to him, he noticed my presence in an instant.

"New orders?" he asked.

"Turn up to the frequency of B Company. Tell them to have their mortars redirected to fire at the other side of our position. You go do it now."

"Hey. What about coordinates?"

"What?" I frowned.

"Coordinates! Enemy coordinates!"

"You're the radioman. It's your call." I replied.

"Hey! You won't expect me to expose my head just to take a peek at their position, would you?"

"Fine. I'll do it." I sighed.

When you're in a group, you have to make a contribution. Even if it is a risky one. But hell, everything everyone does here in Able Company has always had risks. Yet they are all counting on you. On me, in this case. After all, in a war the only people you can trust is you, God and the each other.

"You'll be fine, Robert. Trust me!

I crawled up; making sure that any part of my body wouldn't pose as a target for the Germans on the other side of the river, even though they themselves were already taking cheap shots at us. I brought up my binoculars. I used landmarks to pinpoint the exact location. I called back.

"Coordinates: zero-one-six-eight at nine-zero; bearing 20 degrees; dog-three."

BANG!

Gunshot. I saw the flash. They caught me. I ducked down immediately. The bullet came at inches in my head.

"Shit!" I cursed.

It scared me. Another close call. How many near-death experiences would I have to endure?

I ran back down.

"You got that, Dieter?" My breath heaving.

"Yeah."

"Well, make sure you did. I won't do it again for your ass next time!"

A whistling sound.

BOOM!

A shell landed 50 feet from us.

"Call them quick! The Germans are using their artillery again." I bid him.

He nodded. Dieter began to turn the dials.

O'Shea came to me.

"Anything yet?" He asked.

"No. But Rosenbaum over here is trying to make contact with Baker Company for mortar back-up."

"They certainly taking a while."

"Yeah…"

"Hey Turner! Where's my 20 bucks?" He grinned.

"Come on David! I didn't even agree on that bet of yours!"

"Whoa! Don't lie to me now!"

A shower of mortars fired from the distance. A second later they came down whistling, as they bombarded the trees on the other side. The crunches of wood, stone and earth braking apart. By then, I knew that the Germans didn't see that coming. The barrage was a quick one; but enough to disorient them a bit and keep their heads down.

"That's our cue! Saddle up, guys! Move out!" Captain Collins ordered.

With that, all of us stood up; running towards the bridge as the smoke came billowing before us. We were firing wildly; growling like a legion of Romans charging at the hated Carthage.

"Alright, let's go!"

"20 bucks, Robert! You owe me, you hear!"

"Just be sure you're alive once this is all over!" I smirked.

The battle was just beginning anyway. Now we were about to take the fight to them.

"This is Able Company! Enemy contact at Bridge #4 currently engaged. Requesting Dog Company to reinforce our lines. A Company is moving up front. Repeat. Able Company is moving up front!"

-TO BE CONTINUED-