Note from Kanuro5: Once again, I was hit by the Muse and finished this chapter rather quickly. Enjoy!
The Friend II
July 25, D-Day + 49, 1230 hrs
"There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends."
"Any news, Sergeant?" the lieutenant asked.
The Master Sergeant sighed from his desk, "Sir, you asked me six hours ago."
"C'mon, I wanna know. I'm goin' nuts up in here."
The sergeant smirked, "What? You're bored being in the rear with warm beds and showers?"
"Yes! I thought I was pretty fucking clear on that six hours ago, and the day before that, and the day before that."
"All right, Lieutenant, I understand… give me a second."
The Master Sergeant looked through the stacks of papers that he had in his tray that were delivered to him by the officers an hour ago. He pulled out of a sheet that had the lieutenant's name.
"It says here you are scheduled to leave in two days to join the 3rd Battalion of the 175th, Company L… hey, look at that! You'll still be in the 29th."
"The 175th?"
"Yes sir. Aren't you excited, Lieutenant Conti?"
"Over the moon…"
2nd Lieutenant Joe Conti rubbed his mouth and jaw with his palms and turned away from the Master Sergeant and exited the French home. He groaned loudly as he looked around this small French town, he didn't bother to memorize the name. This town was the Regimental HQ for the 116th Regiment.
The enlisted men within the HQ were busy completing either mundane task for the senior officers or trying to juggle multiple tasks at once. These senior officers had the luxuries that the dogfaces on the frontline dreamed of and whispered about. They had showers with hot water, cups of Joe that was actually brewed to perfection along with creams and sugar, they even had hero sandwiches with different assortments of meat and cheeses that even the orderlies could eat on break. Conti was damn sure that no one in the HQ had to eat a K-ration once their boots had touched France. Conti was even allowed to sleep in a bed with sheets with each town they passed as the MLR was being pushed forward. The last time Conti slept in a bed was in Cherbourg.
Five days he has been with the Regimental HQ. Five damn days. Conti wanted to scream. God, if only Conti was a Captain, or MacKay was a 2nd Lieutenant… Conti would love to punch that smiling Goody-Two-Shoe in the mouth for sticking him into this position. Five days in being trained in the job of being a 2nd Lieutenant in a rifle platoon.
Upon leaving Able Company, Conti along with seven other officers who were commissioned from sergeants, had arrived at the Regimental HQ, and were received by the Regimental Commander Franklin Rivers. Then a major came by and gave them a 30-minute spiel on how great it was to be an officer and what it would be like to lead men. Conti wanted to nod off. And judging by the seven other promoted officers, they were of the same mindset as Conti. Then, came the training…
He needed no introduction about infantry tactics and leading men; he had learned these things in Ranger training and in combat, but he always welcomed to learn more. The bitter pill to swallow was receiving training in officer administration. The most egregious of this was typing.
Typing… who the fuck invented this? As a First Sergeant, he was already required to know how to type, since he was the NCO responsible for the organization of the company and its roster. But as an officer, he was told that he would have deadlines to make to his C.O on the regular, and writing after-action reports if the C.O wasn't present. God, he wanted to laugh aloud when he heard that. When the hell would he bring a typewriter to the frontline?
The only other useful thing that Conti believed that he needed improvement on was the advanced map reading. All the promoted lieutenants could read a map, but since they were all officers, more emphasis would be placed on combat scenarios involving mapping, planning, artillery coordination, and air support. Along with grand strategic planning in how to properly assault with mechanized infantry and armor in combined arms, these two seemed the only useful skills he should be acquainted with. Hang the rest.
And so, his days would repeat. Wake up, shave, breakfast, an hour and a half sessions on typing reports, an hour of map reading, an hour of infantry tactics, lunch break, an hour of corresponding after-action reports, hour leadership seminar, two hours in memorizing radio procedure, dinner break, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Was this to be his routine until he was reassigned?
By God, he never knew he actually missed fighting. It seemed better than this monotonous shit.
Conti was issued a fresh uniform. A new jacket and pristine fatigues. It felt tight on him, did all officers seemingly starch their uniforms? He couldn't tell if it was actual starch, it was just tight on him. He missed his old uniform. It may have been holey and stunk to high heaven with sour sweat, but at least it was properly broken in. At least one comfort that he was allowed to make to his uniform was the placement of his Ranger vest that he wore over his combat jacket. Better yet, the orderlies even cleaned his Ranger vest for him.
They even offered to exchange his battered helmet with a new one that had a lieutenant bar printed on the front. Conti had laughed in their face. He felt it was bad luck to switch out your helmet, besides, why the hell would he wear an officer's bar on his helmet? That was like painting a bullseye on your forehead for a sniper. Conti couldn't imagine why MacKay would wear his helmet that had Captain's bars printed on it.
John… "Always Able"…
He's been thinking more about MacKay lately. His initial thought was pounding MacKay in the face like when they were all sergeants. Then, an empty darkness would envelop Joe, leaving goosebumps on his arm and a soreness in his heart. He then recalled the NCOs of Able and the warm smiles of trust they gave him, how he walked by and they would exclaim, "Boy, I'm glad to see you." This feeling plagued him mightily throughout the five days here, and he couldn't understand why. Perhaps he just missed his best friend and the men? Perhaps…
Conti could not believe he was stuck in the HQ for two more days until he was transferred into a new company. Strangers. Men that he never bled beside, men who would look at him as if he was a replacement officer.
Why the hell are you fretting about that, Joe? Being a replacement isn't your first rodeo. Remember Charlie Company, 1st Infantry? That was my first company and then I transferred to Able… This is not my first time transferring, and yet… And yet, it felt different. Maybe, it was because he felt a true purpose with Able… Perhaps it was John's warm spirit that made Able truly special for Joe.
Conti groaned. His head was splitting, that happened whenever he was thinking too much. He had twenty minutes to kill before his next session in recognizing the relationship of enlisted men and noncommissioned officers… God, please give me something or put me out of my misery… Conti started walking endlessly.
"C'mon corporal, I see some boys walkun' out with sandwiches in hand, can my men get some too?"
"I'm sorry, Sergeant, that is for officers only and those on the G & S staff."
"But Imma Ranger, can't you bend the rules for the Rangers?"
Conti stopped in his tracks. He turned his head over to the right. There truly was a Ranger within the 116th Regiment HQ, and he was speaking to a corporal who sat behind a table.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant," the corporal replied with uneasiness.
"Ya kiddin' me? I climbed a cliff on D-Day. And that's not hyperbole, buddy! My men and I scaled an actual fuckin' cliff with the Krauts pissin' down at us and droppin' grenades on our heads!"
"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but I can't do it."
That Ranger's voice sounded familiar. Conti approached, spotting the helmet that was being carried in his hand. The back of the helmet was stenciled with a diamond-red 2, indicating the 2nd Ranger Battalion. Conti was once among the 1st Ranger Battalion, but he couldn't recall anyone he met in the 2nd Rangers.
The arguing Ranger made a sidestep in irritation, providing Conti with the profile on the side of the Ranger's face. The Brooklynite chuckled with a rasp, "Son of a bitch…"
Conti straightened himself and walked with purpose towards the two, "Corporal, I overheard the Ranger here asking for some heroes. I'm ordering you to provide this man with whatever he needs."
The corporal stood straight at attention, "Yes, sir!" The man then turned to the Ranger and the Ranger provided him with the list of sandwiches he wanted.
Well, one good thing about being an officer was the ability to pull rank.
The corporal scurried off to complete the order. The Ranger turned around, "Well, thank you for that, sir. I really—" the Ranger stopped once he fully spun around, instantly recognizing Conti.
He opened his mouth in surprise, "Joe Conti?"
Conti was chuckling, "Jimmy Silk."
Both men laughed loudly and embraced each other, patting one another's back.
Technical Sergeant James Silk was 27 and from Jefferson, Texas. He was a tall man at 6'3 and had an infectious Southern laugh. Last time Conti saw him was early 1943 when both of them were in the 1st Ranger Battalion. That seemed like an eternity ago.
Sergeant Silk looked over Conti with a wide smile, "My God! I can't believe I actually hugged an officer."
"Yeah, well, enjoy that, buddy. That's the only free hug ya gettin' outta me. If I want to, I could court martial your Texan ass!"
"Yeah? Ya wanna bet you son of a—" Silk suddenly clenched his lips tightly and growled. "Oh you… humph! I can't be badmouthin' an officer."
Conti made a crusty smile, "Yeah, ya can't, ya stinkin' reb."
"And I hafta call ya, sir. Don't I?"
"Yeah, ya do."
"Uh-Uh! Nope! I ain't calling you, sir, not you no-good-doggone-New Yorker-who-is-old-as-my-daddy! Nope, I ain't doin' it!"
Conti chuckled gutturally, patting Silk on the shoulder, "I'm glad you ain't change, Jimmy!"
Silk was laughing, "I can't believe we lost 'Sluggin' Joe' to the officers. Jesus Christ. Last time I saw you, you were a Staff Sergeant. How the hell did this happen?"
Surprisingly, the corporal had finished Silk's order for sandwiches and handed them to him. Silk motioned for Conti to tell his story as he went back to see his Rangers.
"Well, Jimmy, I was with the 1st Infantry at Kasserine and got shot for my troubles. I was in the hospital bed for a good while, and then I'm told I was promoted to First Sergeant. I still ain't know how that happen. Then I'm transferred to the 29th Infantry, and a few weeks ago, my C.O says I'm doing a great job as a Top and had me commissioned as an officer. It officially happened five days ago."
Silk was snickering, "Hot damn. Joe's an officer."
Silk arrived at his squad of Rangers who were lounging around and smoking. Silk introduced them to Conti and delivered them their sandwiches. He then walked off with Joe and found somewhere private to talk. Silk took out a flask and drank from it with gusto.
"What the hell is that?" Conti asked.
"Whiskey."
"Son of a bitch, took ya that long ta break it out? Don't be stingy now."
Silk poured some whiskey into Joe's cup.
"So, why are ya in the 2nd Rangers? Weren't ya with the 1st?" the officer asked.
"That I was. Since you left the 1st, we been battlin' the Krauts in Africa and Sicily. They didn't stand a chance against the Rangers."
Then, Silk's expression soured, "Then… Then came Anzio…"
Joe looked to his cup of whiskey, "Yeah, we heard about Anzio from England. All those Rangers… how did you escape Anzio?"
"Come New Years, I dun caught two nasty bugs. Pneumonia along with malaria. Those bastards nearly killed my ass. I was sweatin' so much ya woulda thought I was a two-cent whore in church. I was seein' so much, Joe. I was in my cot, seein' my old dog, Crispy, talkin' to me with the voice of Christ. I shit you not!"
"Damn."
"Yeah. I was out for a solid month. By the time I woke up, I was left behind. And then I heard the news of the Catastrophe of Cisterna. Most of our buddies, dead or captured. The 1st and 3rd Battalions were pretty much destroyed at Anzio. I was left without a home. Then a Captain came by and informed me of another Ranger Battalion that was preparing to launch an invasion, a goddamn big one apparently, and that they were in England. So, I received my orders and hopped on a ship takin' men and supplies to England, and that's where I joined Easy Company, 2nd Rangers."
Conti took a swig of the whiskey. "That's quite the story, Jimmy."
Silk took a bite from his sandwich. "I know. Don't quite know if it's good luck or bad that I'm in France right now."
"So, what the hell are the 2nd Rangers doing?"
Silk gave an honest shrug, "I don't rightly know. We're the problem solvers for the VII Corps. Whatever special mission that needs doin' is assigned to us Rangers. We have no clear objective until the Stars tell us we do. What we do in the meanwhile is just scout and patrol, and that is dull enough to rot one's brain. But our fundamental objective is to rest and replenish our numbers. D-Day took a mighty wet bite out of our asses. We lost a lotta men…"
"Yeah, I know that feelin', Jimmy…"
Both men ceased in their chatter upon seeing several officers rushing towards the communication building. Years in the Army had taught both Conti and Silk that "if it wasn't your business, then it wasn't your fucking business". However, something called for Conti to investigate, and Silk followed him.
There were five officers in the communication building, listening closely to the Captain who had a radio headset to his ears. The highest-ranking man in that room was a major. Conti and Silk slipped past the doors and stood off to the side.
"Say again, Rover 6?" the Captain asked into the radio.
"Who's Rover 6?" the Major inquired.
"It's the C.O of Able Company, sir. They're at Hebecrevon. He's saying that they're engaging with the remnants of the Lehr Division and are losing tanks."
An invisible blade punctured Joe's lung. The entire world quieted.
Able… John…
Conti listened on impatiently, desperately wanting to snatch the radio from the Captain. Yet he had sense in his mind not to do such an irrational action. So he listened to what the Captain told the room of officers, that John needed artillery or air support to destroy some Panthers. Two of his five Wolverines have been destroyed and they could be overrun by the Panthers.
The Captain on the radio told him there could be no artillery or air support for them and any armored vehicles would take at least an hour to get there, but he would send them anyway. Joe knew Able didn't have an hour, John didn't have an hour.
He approached the Major and stood straight, his eyes were sharp enough to cut to the bone. "Sir, I'm Lieutenant Conti, I request to leave the HQ to help Able Company."
The Major looked at him as if he asked to marry the Easter Bunny. Joe didn't even rightly know why he suddenly spoke like that.
"Lieutenant, your request is denied. I am already sending armor to help them. What are you doing in here anyway?"
"I heard it from you, that the armor won't reach them for an hour. They won't last that long. Again, I request to help Able."
"What are you going to do by yourself?"
Joe didn't think that far. An image of John laughing with him back in the States had flashed in his mind. He turned around and pointed to Silk, "The Ranger here has a squad of bazookas that we can use to take out the tanks, and I bet they got jeeps to reach them and—"
"I've had enough of this foolishness, Lieutenant. You get out of here now, before I give you a reprimand! That's an order!"
Conti stormed out of the building, moving with purpose. Silk was walking out with less enthusiasm. He whistled and shook his head, "Quite a thang for you to do, Conti. To volunteer me and my boys for a mission that we had no say in."
Conti stopped moving, and wheeled around, "I know… but I really need your help, Jimmy."
"Is it about Able?"
"Yeah! These were the boys who I was with till I got promoted. They need help, the Captain needs help."
"What does a Captain mean to you, Joe?"
Joe sucked the bottom of his lip. With his coffee-brown eyes, Joe stared at Silk with sincerity. "Jimmy, do you recall the guy that I never shut up about? The man who started doing pushups with me at basic when the DI got on my ass for being old?"
Silk was blinking in surprise, "That fella is a captain now?"
"He is. He and all those men are about to be overrun. And I can't stand here with my thumb up my ass and wish for the best! I'm goin' out there, and I need your help, Jimmy. I know the Rangers have bazookas, and your squad is still here."
Silk inhaled through his nose before speaking, "You want us Rangers to go out there and risk our lives to save ya company without any orders from a senior officer? Am I hearing that right, Joe?"
"You're not going alone, I'm coming too! Please, Jimmy, they need help…"
Silk's mouth formed into a grin, "Glad to see being commissioned didn't clip ya nuts. Ya wanna fight? Ya got it, Conti. I know just the five men who'll help us out at a moment's notice. And we got two jeeps that we can use to get there."
Conti was nodding, "I knew I could count on you, Jimmy."
"What do ya need?"
"Bazookas and thermite grenades! Anything that punches a hole through armor!"
"We already got those. Rangers are always ready for battle. Y'know that."
"Thank God, c'mon, let's go see ya men. We need to hurry!"
They were driving in two separate jeeps, seven men in total, Conti and Silk's six-man Ranger squad. Silk was the ranking sergeant there, two men under him were staff sergeants, two more were corporals who carried two bazookas with six shells, and the sixth man was a Private First Class. All of the Rangers were carrying Thompsons, they had a feeling the fighting would be up close and brutal.
In the lead jeep was Conti in the passenger's seat, giving directions to the Ranger driver in how to best reach Hebecrevon at top speed. The two jeeps were flying down the road for ten minutes, each second passing felt as if Conti's stomach would ascend through his throat. He was praying to the Big Man that John and Able would be fine.
They came upon the ruins of Hebecrevon, the sounds of tank fire was echoing in the distance. They parked their jeeps behind a high wall and moved out on foot, skulking like rats through the bombed-out industrial complex. They followed the sounds of tank firing, the growing volume meant they were getting closer.
Passing through the rubble and blasted-out walls, the Rangers could hear Germans rambling. They were a platoon strong and taking up defensive positions about fifty yards behind two Panther tanks standing still on the crest of a hill. The Rangers sneaked from behind the buildings and advanced up to 30 yards of the two stationary Panthers. The Americans were safely behind cover and out of the line of sight of the German platoon, the Rangers were facing the sides of the Panther armor and were still hidden.
From their current position, the Rangers could look down the hill and witness the battle. Through his binoculars, it was just as Conti had feared.
The dirt field below the hill had scattered remains of many tanks that were smoking and in ruins. Based on the design of the hulls, most of the tanks were American. This battle involved two American tanks, a Sherman and a Wolverine pitted against three Panthers, one in the field and two standing on the crest across from the Rangers. Conti could spot Able company taking shelter in a long, slit trench.
The lone Sherman was either Excalibur or Hitler's Bane. The stationary Panthers on the hill fired at the Sherman and scored a fatal hit. The tankers successfully jumped from the tank and ran to the trench. The only American tank that was operable in the field was now that sole Wolverine.
1-3
"Goddammit! They got our last Sherman! We need to tank out the Panthers, now!" Conti yelled in a controlled volume, putting away his binoculars.
Silk turned to his men, "Maffei! Bronze! Are those bazookas ready?"
Both of the corporals gave the T/Sgt thumbs up. They shouldered the rocket launchers.
"Backblast clear?" Corporal Maffei asked, aiming his bazooka at the rear armor.
"It's clear!" Conti answered.
"Firing!"
The bazooka men were positioned in a slanted angle. The warhead flew from the tube and slammed into the rear armor of the nearest Panther. The Panther commander was swiveling his head from side-to-side in sheer surprise.
"Solid hit! Maffei, Timmons, get that bazooka loaded again! Bronze, fire before the Kraut gets wise!"
"Backblast clear?" Bronze asked.
"Clear!"
"Firing!"
And like the previous, this bazooka's rocket landed with authority in the same rear armor. The Panther commander suddenly slipped inside the tank, screaming. Black smoke could be seen exiting the hatch, but the tank was reversing slowly at a snail's pace.
One of the sergeants called out, "I see smoke coming out, but the fucker's still moving!"
Maffei the bazooka man sneered, "Oh yeah? Let's see him move after this! Bazooka is primed, backblast clear?"
"Clear! Knock it out!"
"Firing!"
With the third rocket being fired, into the rear engine, the entire tank blew in a ball of fire with a near ear-splitting shriek.
1-2
"Whoo! Good shooting, Maffei and Bronze!" Silk cheered.
By the time the Panther was hit the second time and started reversing, the stationary Panther that was fifteen meters away noticed what was happening to its ally. That Panther's commander was rotating in the hatch to find out where the firing was coming from. Fortunately for the Rangers, as the Panther commander turned around, they fired their final fatal round into the wounded Panther.
The stationary Panther on the hill had now fully turned its attention to the mystery of the destroyed Panther meters away from it. The lone Wolverine duking it out with the wounded Panther down the hill was no longer their concern.
Bronze the bazooka man had another round loaded in his bazooka and fired the fourth round into the rear armor of the sole, stationary Panther, damaging its engine. As soon as they fired, all the Rangers hid behind the rubble to avoid detection. The Panther commander was searching for the origin of the blast, but he ultimately ordered the Panther to reverse away from the crest of the hill. It had to heal and did not seek to engage a Wolverine with an attack to its rear.
With the Panther on the hill falling back, Conti and the Rangers moved down the hill on the extreme right flank through the smashed buildings that bordered the field of tanks. They had to hurry and connect with Able Company to support the last Wolverine as it battled the remaining Panther on the field. They descended down the hill and kept moving behind the rubble until they were ten yards from the Able's trench. They were close enough to hear the men of Able jabbering aloud of what they spotted on top of the hill.
"What the hell was that?! Why the hell did one of the Panthers up top explode?"
"I don't know! And the other is retreating!"
"What the hell is going on?!"
Conti told his Rangers to carefully move forward in order not to spook the already wired soldiers. But it was too late, once three of the Rangers switched from cover-to-cover in the open, several soldiers of Able spotted them.
"Movement! Krauts to the west! 3 o'clock!" a rifleman shouted.
Five M1 rounds cracked off the cover where Conti was hiding from. More rounds were following, chipping away pieces of the stone-covering the Rangers were behind.
"Aw shitfire!" Silk cursed over the gunfire. "Conti! Tell ya men ta knock it off!"
"Ceasefire!" Conti screamed as hard as he could. "Ceasefire, goddammit!" He was kicking himself for rushing in there without a password to distinguish himself.
He kept screaming for a ceasefire, and slowly, the fire began to ebb away.
"Ceasefire! Friendlies, goddammit!" Conti called out from cover.
"What the hell is the password, ya dun bettuh provide it!" one of the riflemen shouted.
That voice… Smitty the yokel.
"Always Able!" Conti bellowed.
"What the hell? Who dun be out there?!"
He stuck his head partially out of cover, "Goddammit, it's me, Smitty! Ya dumb, fingerless, West Virginian bonehead!"
"Oh my GOD! It's Conti!" Smitty yelped. "Everyone hold ya fiya to the right, Conti's here! Hold ya fiya!"
Conti and the Rangers sprinted from cover and entered the trench, making a beeline to MacKay. The men who saw Conti walking amongst them all bore the expression as if they had just witnessed an apparition. Most of them were muttering Conti's name in surprise.
But Conti couldn't focus on them, the only thing on his mind was taking out the Panther engaging the Wolverine. And the TD looked like it was on its last leg…
"MacKay, how are you all situated?" Conti asked, finally spotting the C.O.
"Joe?! What the hell are you doing here?!" MacKay was in a genuine stupor.
Joe had to admit, it may have been five days, but it was great seeing him again. "I heard Able was up a creek! So I brought some reinforcements for paddles!"
A replacement took a quick glance at the six men, "You call six men, 'reinforcements'?"
Maffei the bazooka man sneered, "We're Rangers, we're worth two of ya, jackass!"
At this moment, both the Panther and Wolverine were circling around one another at top speed in what seemed to be an endless cycle to see which wounded tank would deliver the fatal blow. The Wolverine, Death Day, fired an AP shell through the treads of the Panther, crippling it. Death Day thenfully flanked around the Panther, turning its cannon towards the rear armor, and fired. The Panther was effectively destroyed.
1-1
The men of Able started cheering once more.
MacKay turned to Conti. The Captain stared at him, then stared at the burning Panther that was on the crest of the hill, then wheeled back to Conti and the Rangers. "That Panther, and the one that retreated, that was because of you guys?"
Technical Sergeant Silk wiped his nose with a boyish grin, "That be us, sir! Thanks to Lieutenant Conti bringing us in for this."
"Thank you." MacKay said sincerely to the Rangers. And to Conti, "Always Able."
His smile disappeared as his mind went back on task. "We still got one Panther left. But only one tank left for us as well. We can't let that thing escape." The Captain asked Fats to hand him the radio again, "Death Day, this is Rover 6, how is your tank? Over."
"Rover 6, our tank took a massive beating, we got a damaged engine and the hull is banged up like a son of a bitch! I'm not confident about going up there to hunt that bastard by myself. Especially since we don't know what's up beyond that hill crest."
"Copy, Death Day, I'm sending my best engineers up there to patch you up." He put down the radio and yelled, "Mercer! Get your squad up there and fix up that Wolverine!"
"Sir, they got an ambush setting up there, we saw it." Conti told him. "They have a battered platoon in entrenched positions waiting to blast whatever comes up that hill. I got a plan though if ya wanna hear it, sir?"
"Joe, I trust you unconditionally."
He had to fight back a smile. Thanks buddy… "I know ya lost four TDs and ya can't afford to lose a fifth. The Rangers and I came down through a pathway of destroyed buildings and rubble from the right. It leads us around the hill and to the side of the waiting Krauts. All I need is a platoon to flank around with me."
Peck was nearby and heard the call, "Captain, 2nd Platoon can go with Sergeant Conti—I mean, Lieutenant Conti."
MacKay nodded, "Alright then. You got 2nd Platoon."
"Good." Conti continued, "Now take Able to the crest of the hill and give Jerry a little skirmish to keep 'em preoccupied. Me, 2nd Platoon, and the Rangers will hit 'em hard in the flank, sir."
"All right, Conti, go do it."
Conti nodded. He stood up and received the warm eyes of 2nd Platoon. Peck looked to him with pride, "I leave it to you, Lieutenant."
Conti then spoke, "C'mon ya bastards, on me!"
Duck stood up to him and winked, "Great to have you back, ya fossil."
Conti made a subtle grin, admitting, "It's great to be back, smartass. But say that again and I'll give ya another slug in the gut."
Someone grabbed Conti's arm. The man who did so held a look of twisted wrath in his eyes, near unrecognizable in addition to losing his tanker helmet. "Wilcox, that you?" Conti asked.
"It's me, I'm coming with you!"
"What the hell happened to your tank, Excalibur?"
Wilcox pulled the actuator back on a Thompson submachine gun he had in his hands. He growled lowly, "Jerry fucked up twice. One, they destroyed Excalibur. Two, they failed to destroy me with it. I'm coming with you."
"All right, I'll take ya. 2nd Platoon, Rangers, let's go!"
The men of 2nd Platoon slithered through the ruins of Hebecrevon after they made their way up the hill, silence was their friend. They all stacked up behind blasted walls of buildings and spotted a platoon worth of Germans, near 40 in strength, rightly entrenched and aiming their weapons down the road where Able will inevitably come from. In the rear was the Panther tank, being operated on by two soldiers with welding torches.
Blackwell looked over the side and brought his head back down, "Shit, that Panther got a Pioneer squad trying to fix it."
"Well we won't let that happen, Corporal," Peck answered. "All right, men. Get into a firing line, find some durable cover."
The men of 2nd Platoon took to their positions as quietly as possible, leveling their rifles and carbines against the rubble. Luckily, the loud exhaust of the Panther's engine and German commands masked the noise of 2nd Platoon getting into position.
Peck then took initiative, he went to each soldier and assigned them all individual targets to fire at once the command was given. He assigned the more accurate riflemen to target the machinegun crews. Conti ordered the two bazooka men to aim their last rounds at the side armor of the Panther tank. If it all went well, the defenders should be obliterated within two minutes.
The German defenders abruptly opened fire down the road, shocking many of the American riflemen. But in a testament to their discipline, none of the riflemen from 2nd Platoon fired in response. Conti was proud of that. He got a better view of what the Germans were firing at, and they were indeed targeting Able Company who appeared at the crest of the hill. There was the distraction, now was the time to strike!
Conti raised his voice, "All right, boys. Ready, Aim—"
The ground was shaking, and creaking gears filled the air, followed by the repeated thumping of an AA gun. Driving down the road and firing at Able Company was a Flakpanzer IV, an Ostwind. It was a self-propelled anti-aircraft gun that was made for punching holes into planes, but when used against infantry… it didn't punch holes through them, it punched craters.
"Damn it! They got an Ostwind!" Peck growled.
"That's a fucking infantry-killer!" Blackwell remarked to Conti.
"I know! Shit! They had one piece of armor. Change of plans, Rangers, target the Ostwind with both rockets before it kills Able!"
Silk looked to Conti, "All right, but what the hell do we do about the Panther?"
"We got grenades; we'll just use those!" Conti replied. "All right, men. Ready, Aim, Fire!"
Rifles barked in unison. Swaths of Germans fell dead in the sudden onslaught, all assigned targets had fell. The MG crews were silenced effectively. The defenders that weren't targeted recoiled in horror at their comrades suddenly dropping dead, the surprise gave 2nd Platoon time to target the panicking soldiers.
"Bazookas, fire! That tin can has gotta go!" Silk bellowed.
Maffei fired at the open turret that housed the AA crew to the Ostwind, the gun was quieted. Bronze aimed at the smoking Ostwind that was still moving. He fired, and the round shot fire through the side armor and destroyed the Flakpanzer.
Both men threw their launchers down, "We're out of bazooka ammo!"
Conti spotted a MG crew along with six additional riflemen taking shelter within a bombed-out building with only two standing walls. If the crew got set up, they could rip 2nd Platoon to shreds.
Conti pointed out to the Rangers the building the Krauts were hiding in. They all reloaded their Thompsons and knew they had to rush that building before the MG42 was set up. Conti ordered Wilcox to accompany them since he had a Thompson as well.
The Rangers were fired up and charged recklessly out into the open, determined not to be suppressed by incoming fire.
Conti, Wilcox, and the Rangers entered the building and caught the German squad by complete surprise. The Americans' SMGs were already leveled against their enemies five yards away, and they pulled the triggers, unleashing pointblank fire.
The outcome of pointblank fire from the Thompsons reminded Conti of many gangster movies he watched where the hoodlums with Tommy Guns with drum magazines would mow down four of the rival gangsters in a single burst, the foes falling over dead in clean, overexaggerated fashion.
Here? It wasn't exaggerated, but brutal.
Seven automatic weapons firing .45 cal bullets at 30 rounds a clip? The Germans screamed for about a half second before they fell silent, and they did not spin or flip when the bullets ripped them from life. They just dropped. Teuton blood was being sprayed back onto the clothes of the GIs, the bullets were ripping chunks of flesh and uniforms off the German bodies, body parts such as fingers, noses, or eyes were being shot into the air from the harrowing onslaught of these GI mafiosos. The splatters of blood and scores of bullet holes painted the two remaining walls of the building.
The men of the Lehr Division that were close by were so caught by the surprise attack by the SMGs, that half of them froze like deer in headlights, the other half quickly tossed down their weapons and shot their hands up, refusing to be on the receiving end of the Tommy Guns. But the Rangers were having none of it. Their weapons were so loud, and their blood was pumping that if anything wasn't wearing an American uniform, it was being sprayed. The soldiers that surrendered shrieked as the .45s entered their torsos
The seven-man hit squad reloaded their smoking Thompsons and took cover within the building. The carnage they were residing in would make the St. Valentine's Day Massacre seem like child's play.
Conti took a look out from behind one of the walls. With 2nd Platoon taking out the majority of the defenders, Able was having an easier time attacking from the crest of the hill. Everything was going well. All they had to do was just take out the Panther, which was 30 yards away from them, but they had no antitank weapons except their grenades.
Conti could spot a Panzerfaust crew with a loaded Panzerfaust moving to assault Able Company, but was shot down by 2nd Platoon. The Panzerfaust fell into a crater.
Duck called out to Conti, "I see a Panzerfaust! I'm going to go for it!"
The sergeant told his platoon to cover him. He left his cover and dashed to retrieve the antitank weapon in the crater.
"Panzerfaust team!" someone yelled out.
A second two-man Panzerfaust team had pivoted towards 2nd Platoon, the first thing they saw was Duck rushing forward, and out of cover. The Panzerfaust aimed at Duck and fired, the elevation was low, and the shell exploded yards away from the Sergeant. The blast sent him flying backwards, landing hard into a bomb crater, and he didn't get up.
"Duck's down!" Conti heard Saywell scream out.
Conti and the Rangers took aim with their Thompsons and mowed down the Panzerfaust team.
He then heard someone yelling, "Lieutenant, get down! Don't go out there!"
Conti turned to 2nd Platoon's position, and rushing out of cover was a helmetless Lieutenant Peck, dashing madly towards Duck. The platoon leader had reached his platoon sergeant and seemingly checked him over for wounds. The officer then pulled Duck up by his Ranger vest and brought him to his wobbly feet.
A German mortar exploded fifteen yards away, and both men fell back into the dirt; however, Peck was the one screaming. It looked to Conti as if Duck had recovered. The sergeant stood up with Peck, putting the officer's arm over his shoulder and started escorting the lieutenant over to Conti's position. Peck was hobbling in pain on one leg.
"C'mon, Peck! Keep moving!" Duck grunted, escorting his wounded lieutenant.
"Fuck! My leg!" the officer cursed through clenched eyes.
Both men made it over to Conti, with Peck instantly collapsing to clutch his knee.
"Duck, Peck, are you alright?!" Conti asked.
Duck responded, "Yeah I'm fine, the rocket just rung my bell. It's Peck that's wounded!"
Lieutenant Peck had a three-inch piece of shrapnel sticking out on the side of his left knee, a few inches above the kneecap. Peck was wincing hard from the jagged metal sticking in his leg.
"I'm sorry, Conti, I couldn't get the Panzerfaust to knock out the tank!" the sergeant told him.
"Forget it, Duck! Just focus on treating Peck!"
"Conti! The Panther is targeting the platoon!" Silk alerted him.
The Panther itself was stationary, but its turret was swiveling towards the defensive positions of 2nd Platoon. Conti could hear Peck muttering in horror, "Oh God, no!"
A 76mm cannon belched. Its round slammed into the front armor of the Panther. The Panther didn't fire at 2nd Platoon, it began moving its turret down the road where a patched-up Death Day had emerged on the crest of the hill to reinforce Able. Its repairs weren't 100%, but Mercer's engineers did a fine job in patching it up where it could survive more than one hit.
With the turret now moved away from 2nd Platoon and with its attention now completely focused on Death Day, Conti knew it was now or never. The lieutenant dug in his jacket and held a thermite grenade in his calloused hand.
Conti could hear Wilcox talking to himself as he was reloading, "You think you can kill Excalibur, huh? You have the fucking gall to kill Excalibur, and you think you can get away with it?! No one gets away with it?!"
Conti slapped the tanker's arm to get his attention, "Wilcox, you're with me! We're taking out that metal fucker, right now!" Wilcox nodded with a sinister sneer.
Conti roared out, "Rangers, cover us!" Him and Wilcox dashed ahead of the platoon, heading straight to the side of the tank. They dived into a foxhole ten yards ahead and leveled their Thompsons against the Pioneer squad that took shelter behind the tank—who were trying to hurry up on their repairs—and both unleashed furious firing on the Pioneer squad.
He took out thermite in his hand and ordered for Wilcox to watch his back. Conti ran behind the tank, knowing he had to destroy the Panther's engine. He got to the back of the tank where the engine was located and winced from the heat. The exhaust to the engine was stingingly hot. The fumes itself felt as if they would burn his hand to a crisp. He recoiled initially, but his mind drifted to Able…
He gritted his teeth and placed it firmly on the exhaust to the engine.
Conti pulled the pin of the thermite grenade, right above the engine. Conti ducked down and could see the bright flare from the thermite going off, quickly melting through the steel of the Panther. The burning thermite ate away through the metal covering and dropped directly on the engine. The engine was blown apart by the thermite; the last Panther died with a sputter.
Two of the Panther tankers emerged from the bottom hatch of the tank. They may have taken four steps away from the tank before Wilcox roared through his teeth and cut them down with the entire clip of his Thompson.
Conti and Wilcox returned to the Rangers with enough time to witness Death Day firing its final round into the disabled Panther, obliterating it. Conti figured the Wolverine's shot was a combination of a coup de grâce and a final "fuck you" for the Krauts that killed his men.
1-0
The remnant of the infantry of the Panzer Lehr Division surrendered upon promptly realizing they were surrounded by the Americans.
With all seven Panthers destroyed, Able Company was victorious.
This hard-won fight had revitalized the spirits of Able Company. They were all smirks and boasts after destroying the last of the Panthers. As the men of Able took the time to cheer for themselves, Conti escorted the Rangers back to their jeeps.
"Whoo!" Silk exclaimed. "That was goddamn intense. Glad we knocked those Panthers out."
"As am I," Conti chuckled. "You picked your men well; they did a damn fine job. Rangers really are the Aces of the Army."
Silk gave that southern smirk of his, "Ya goddamn right. Today was fun, Joe. And ta think earlier we were all bored out of our minds. Hey, if ya evuh need us and we're in the area, give us a call, yeah? I'll come runnin'"
"I'll keep that in mind, Jimmy. Thanks for everything. I mean it. I owe ya a beer."
"Nah, you owe me six! I haven't forgotten Africa!"
Conti laughed. Silk hopped into the jeep and gave a casual yet meaningful salute to Conti. The Rangers drove away.
Walking to find the Captain, Conti spotted the veteran men of the 2nd Platoon Nine hovering over their wounded platoon leader. Doc Rad had removed the shrapnel from Peck's leg and had bandaged it up neatly. Conrad offered the officer a stretcher, but Peck refused. Conti figured his pride as an officer wouldn't let him be carried out on a stretcher if he could walk. Conti respected that.
Duck scratched his neck, observing the bandages above Peck's knee, "I… kinda feel bad, sir."
"Why's that, Sergeant?" Peck asked, Conrad assisting him to his wobbly feet.
"I was going for the Panzerfaust, you went to get me back, you got wounded… and we didn't even get to use the damn thing."
"Yeah, that was a shame, but I'm glad you're all right, Sergeant."
"How's the leg, sir?"
Peck groaned softly, "Hurts, burns, stings, aches, and throbs, at the same damn time. Hopefully, B.A.S can mend it for me."
King nodded, "I'll say so, sir. Looks like you'll be out for a while."
"My thoughts exactly, Corporal. Sergeant Hudson, in my absence, you got 2nd Platoon."
Duck exhaled with the roll of his eyes, "Yep, back to my old job. But hey, I'm glad you're hanging in there, L-T, looks like it could have been a whole lot worse. Hey, come back when you can, alright Lieutenant Peck?"
Terry patted the officer's shoulder a few times, "That's right, sir, make it back. We had some good luck with you around."
"Get well, sir," Saywell remarked. "We need ya back."
"That's right, sir. Hang tough," King told him.
Was Conti imagining it, or was Peck fighting back tears from the recognition he was receiving from his veterans?
"Thanks, guys," the young officer said humbly with a smile.
The medic acted like a crutch, carrying the limping officer to the medical jeep. The jeep sped away, leaving the veterans of 2nd Platoon to their thoughts.
"I really do hope Peck comes back," Lovett commented.
"Yeah, me too. He wasn't as annoying as I thought he would be," Saywell added.
Duck grunted in agreement, "Never expected a 2nd Louie to save my life, I owe him one when he gets back."
Conti walked around, he had to see the Captain. The men of Able would sporadically stop and talk to him with the "how you do's" and the "welcome back's". But Conti found MacKay speaking to the 3rd Squad, 1st Platoon and Mercer's engineers about establishing a defense around Hebecrevon. John MacKay, always doing his duty.
"This area is not secure! Mercer, set up a defensive perimeter now. Spencer, take your squad and patrol out a hundred yards to make sure no Krauts are coming back."
The men all nodded and darted off to accomplish their task, leaving MacKay alone.
He turned around and grew an honest smile, "Conti, just the man I wanted to see."
"Am I in trouble?"
MacKay was chuckling, followed by Conti. The C.O shouldered his Thompson and slapped Conti's shoulder, "I'm so happy I could kiss you, Joe."
"What would Mary say about that?"
"Ah, she won't know, and she wouldn't care in this situation. You really came through for Able. We would have lost our fifth Wolverine and would have been overrun if not for you. But why?"
"Why what?"
His smile was broad, "Why the hell did you do that, Joe? With no armor support, just you and six Rangers. You came through enemy territory, flanked behind the enemy and engaged their tanks. Why?"
"Well… we had to show these Kraut chumps what this old company could do."
MacKay blinked repeatedly, his smile still on his face. "You remembered that? From boot camp? Joe… you're truly one of a kind."
"Ya tryin' ta make me blush, MacKay?"
MacKay shook his head warmly, "Thanks for coming back, Joe. Now I get to say I told ya so."
"How so, sir?"
"I told you it wouldn't be the final time we saw each other. And I told you we would run into each other again."
The two men were about four yards apart. Conti was smiling, but fought hard to conceal it. He looked to his friend, "Hey, MacKay?"
MacKay was smiling, "Yeah, Joe? What is it?"
"Y'know… I never did get the chance to say—"
Conti's heart suddenly jumped at the sound. He turned his head to the right as he heard it. The deafening sound of a cannon erupting. The sound originated far away, and he couldn't see what caused it. As his eyes looked to the right at the sound of the firing, in front of him… he saw, felt, and heard the sudden blast of an explosion.
Joe saw the light first. It was beautiful. As beautiful as the time the sun was rising above the earth during his time in Africa. This new light was the sun, emerging from a tiny speck and expanding into the size of a blimp and it kept growing larger and brighter, blinding this lowly mortal from its radiance.
The next thing Joe experienced was the heat. Like someone opened up a car door on a scorching July day, but this was amplified to be that of an oven. Conti swore the heat alone seared all the hair on his face.
Joe would then hear what was the sheer noise that came from this hot sun. The blast was deafening, someone must have shoved two bayonets through his ears.
The last thing Joe remembered was a ball of light that shined brighter than a star, had suddenly emerged in front of him. And in the epicenter of the light was John MacKay. His arms were extended out and his entire being was enveloped by this bright star. His body was flying several feet in the air, with rays of light that penetrated his back and exited the front. His mouth had twisted in pure agony. And his eyes… Joe could spot his eyes within the light. John's eyes bore the mark of unspeakable terror…
Joe blacked out.
Joe stirred back to consciousness. He raised his upper body; his vision was blurry, a mixture of black smoke and brown dust wafted around the area in an unholy fusion. From the sheer pain he was experiencing, Joe was confident his head was split open by an ax. His nose was utterly stopped up. His ears were ringing sharply, he was sure he could feel blood seeping down his lobes.
He looked ahead. Several yards away was a plume of thick smoke and dust that lingered around a crater. Sticking out from the crater and the dust were pairs of American boots.
His sight was still fuzzy, but the boots snapped him to attention. He was blinking fervently. Who the hell was caught in that blast? His chest was burning, but he forced himself to slur, "Medic! Medic! We need a fucking medic!"
His eyes began to focus on those boots more clearly. The smoke wafted, revealing the legs attached to those boots… those Ranger trousers…
The realization hit him, like a shining bullet. The world fell from up under Joseph Conti.
He wobbled to his feet, his voice was fragile, "John…?"
Blood was pooling around those legs.
Joe started moving towards those boots, "JOHN!"
His feet were sprinting, the smoke was beginning to clear around the body. He hoped it was a different outcome. He hoped.
But he knew… in his heart… he knew…
Boot Camp… Fort Riley… 1934…
Always Able...
"JOHN!"