Kanuro5:I want thank to -Fireman23 for bouncing ideas off me and trying to debunk theories of weaponry. Finally get to conclude this arc. Enjoy!

The Commander

August 7th, D-Day + 62, 0612 hrs

"Leadership and learning are indispensable to each other."

Dawn had come over Mortain. With the rising sun came the buzzing drones of P-47s in the air. Lieutenant Conti, the Company Commander, followed a pair of them in the sky.

"This is Easy-Baker 5-6-5. I'm starting my run, over," he heard them through the radio. They banked offed and started strafing German positions in the forests.

Able Company cheered as they flew overhead of them on Hill 314. Conti didn't have the energy to cheer, though he wanted to. This was a sign that relief was on its way. They just had to hold out a little longer…

Last night, the Krauts really kicked them hard in the teeth. They were so damn close to being overran. Within the first two hours, Conti's original plan for a horseshoe around the hill was folded by the Krauts into an encirclement. Their HQ was captured as well, with the HQ section barely getting out, along with 2nd Platoon. The Germans even drove two tanks up the hill and pushed 2nd Platoon back to the new CP in the epicenter of the hill. God, was this fighting vicious.

Always Able. They never gave up. Their lines were bent, but they were never broken. 2nd Platoon forced them back, those boys on the 105s were invaluable. Every man did their part, and they pushed the Germans back for the night.

And now they had to hold on one last time for the day attack that they all knew was coming. The men were tired, many of them didn't sleep, they had to watch for German infiltrators and probers. The men were running low on ammunition, the howitzers reported they only had ten shells from the constant bombardment they were implementing during the battle.

Conrad came to him two hours after the Germans stopped for the night and told him they suffered over 50 casualties, wounded and dead. The dead Americans were cleared out of the triage center with blankets draped over them. The German dead were left as they fell, on and around the hill. The hill stank of death, bile, and blood. The Germans' flesh had lost their color from the night and were graying with the newfound sunrise.

The twelve prisoners that were taken by 2nd Platoon's counterattack were being guarded by Mercer's engineer's section. Upon first interrogation, with King as translator, the SS prisoners weren't talking, they were fanatical like that. All they told him was stuff he already knew. That his company on the hill was surrounded and they would perish. Hopefully, Regiment would get better intelligence out of them.

Able's current situation was precarious. They were down to half strength with not enough men to adequately cover the entire hill. During the night and into the morning, the men of Able could hear the revving of tank engines and the creaking of their weight circle around the hill. The Germans were shifting their forces to the northern slope right where 2nd Platoon was. The northern slope was the weakest, the Krauts nearly overran the hill last night from that position. But thanks to Sergeant Hirsch and Lieutenant Peck, they pushed the enemy off the hill.

Knowing the attack would come in the dawn, Conti made quite a gamble. During the middle of the night after the Germans stopped their attack, he shifted the entirety of 1st Platoon from the southern slope over to the northern slope to reinforce the 2nd, along with placing Paine's machineguns on that slope as well. The southern slope had more natural vegetation and stones than the barren northern slope, and with that it could conceal their numbers. Conti just hope the Krauts wouldn't get wise. He remembered hearing the old military maxim, "He who tries to defend everything, defends nothing." Conti was sure this was the moment the maxim spoke of. Now there was a gap in their lines that was obscured by vegetation, he was hoping that their relief would show up.

The field phone alerted Conti that the reinforcements were close by, and that was an hour ago, and air support would be there as well. Now that the planes were here, this would be the moment he knew in his bones that the Germans would try one last assault to take the hill. If they take the hill, they will try to dig in with everything they have. This battle wasn't over yet.

A muffled explosion boomed in the distance, followed by sporadic heavy machinegun firing. From the way the echo reached the hill, the heavy machinegun sounded like an American .50 caliber. Then a sound of an MG42 returned the echoing. It was coming close from the town of Mortain.

Sergeant Fats turned to Conti, "Sir, I got Dog Company on!"

Conti took the receiver, "This is Lieutenant Conti, over."

The voice was from the C.O of the Daring Dogs, Captain Trent Bishop, who's voice seemed playfully slimy, "Able, this is Dog Company. How was that R&R? You guys all rested up? I hope you took care of our hill."

Conti responded, "Dog, just get that fuckin' armor into position. Those Krauts aren't gonna wait for ya."

He could hear Bishop chuckling on the other end, "I see you're not in the mood. Don't worry, I got a pick-me-up. Command delivered the 2nd 3rd, and 4th Armored Division with us. We got dozens of Shermans and Wolverines. We're coming in from the west. Not only that, but Colonel Lincoln also sent Baker Company as well. Hang tight, Lieutenant, we're going to bust through, over?"

"Oh, thank God! Hurry it up, then! I feel those Krauts are gonna attack any minute now!"

He gave the receiver back to Fats and sent a runner to collect the platoon leaders and first sergeant. Once the platoon leaders and Crane gathered in Conti's shamble of a CP, he broke the news. "Okay, now we got reinforcements, we're goin' ta push these Krauts away from our damn hill. Dog Company is here, along wit three armored divisions and close air support. Pass the word, just because our relief is here, don't mean nothin'! The Krauts aren't givin' up. We still gotta fight! I believe the Krauts are goin' to attack with all their strength near 2nd Platoon's position. 1st Platoon, ya goin' to stay over and help reinforce 2nd. Okay, 'nough talkin'. Let's get ta work."

Two P-47s were flying overhead of the hill, then a black explosion rippled in the air, directly behind where the fighter-bombers were. Shell fragments descended downward, Conti and the leaders of Able company hit the dirt. Fortunately, no one was hit.

"What was that?!" Ekland asked.

"It sure as hell wasn't a mortar. And that couldn't have been a tank! They've been peppering the side of the hill all night, not the actual hilltop!" Pollard reasoned.

The planes were banking upward. Another black smoke explosion appeared where the planes were. Fortunately, they weren't hit by the blast. The explosion thundered outward over the top of the hill.

"That's flak from an 88!" Conti exclaimed. "Christ! They wheeled those bastards in at night and were plannin' ta bombard us wit 'em during the day."

"I guess they found a new target, eh?" Peck said, bringing his head up to the sky.

Conti saw what his X.O meant. With a time-fuse, the flak artillery can explode at a certain altitude. The flak guns were only firing when the planes passed overhead of Hill 314, thus overhead of Able. Conti theorized that perhaps the Krauts were trying to kill two birds with one stone, trying to shoot down the planes with flak, and the flak explosion creates an air burst that takes out Able. It was a theory, but who knew for sure? Men did crazy, spontaneous, and outlandish things during battle, and these Krauts were about to get desperate to take the hill. And hard to do that with enemy air support.

"Those 88's are pounding us into hamburgers. Knocking 'em out would make this day go a hell of a lot smoother." Conti announced.

"Yeah, but how? We're surrounded, sir!" Peck countered.

The sound of an American machinegun opened up by 2nd Platoon's position, followed by a chorus of German and American rifle fire interlocking.

Duck came running to the officers. "Lieutenant Peck, Conti! Jerry's attacking the northern slope in force!"

"How many?" Peck asked.

"More than they had yesterday! Tanks and infantry, a bunch of them! They're charging our lines right now!"

A small part of Conti felt good that he was right about the German's strategy. The Germans were going to slam everything they had into them. Conti felt he did the right thing, reinforcing 2nd Platoon's position with 1st Platoon, and with Paine's machineguns. All they had to do was just hold and wait until the armored divisions and Dog broke through the German lines.

Just then the P-47s soared above Hill 314, and again, the flak fired just behind them, sending the men on the hill to shield themselves from the air burst. But the fighter-bombers flew over the northern slope and began strafing the side of the hill with their .50 cal machineguns. But as the fighters flew up, a loud repeating stream of fire was being shot into the sky from quite a distance away from the hill.

Conti recognized that in North Africa, this ack-ack fire was a Flak 38, a gun that had quadruple 20mm autocannons that could turn fighter-bombers into Swiss cheese, and it was firing at the planes, along with the 88s.

Fats handed Conti the radio, the pilot wanted to speak to him.

"This is Easy-Baker, can you hear me, over?" his voice was calm and professional.

With the explosions and roaring of the planes, it was demanding, but Conti could hear. He had to shout just so he could hear himself, "Copy, copy. I can hear ya, over!"

"Able, be advised, Jerry has employed some flak guns. We strafed some earlier, but they have more and what looks like a 38. We will pull out until the area is clear."

"What?! No! The Germans are assaultin' the hill as we speak wit armor and infantry! I need ya to support us and strafe those bastards!"

"We are taking some serious fire, not only from the flak but from the machineguns on the tanks."

"If the Krauts take this hill, then everyone comin' out here would be for nothin', dammit!"

"All right, All right. We'll provide close air support on the northern slope. We'll make a few runs targeting the armor, just locate the flak and disable it."

"How?! We're surrounded!"

"Not quite. From our pass, it looks like most of the Krauts are on the northern slope, the rest of the hill looks relatively clear."

"Say again?"

"The rest of the hill looks relatively clear except the northern slope. Listen, we strafed a battery to the east, and that is where the fire is currently coming from. But someone needs to take those out."

The Germans could have attack from all directions, but instead they chose to concentrate everything on their weakest part of his line. Conti couldn't decide if that was clever or foolish.

"Okay!" Conti shouted. "Just keep supportin' my men, we all need the support we can get, over and out!"

The fighter-bombers were banking as hard as they could to dodge the 88mm and the 20mm. Conti understood why the pilots wanted to pull out, but until the cavalry came, then Able wouldn't have a chance without the planes. He had to do something, anything to get his company out of there.

Conti looked to the men that were still gathered around him, "Listen good, all right? Peck, Crane, you two are in charge of this hill! I'm giving you command of the radio for air support. Bomb those Krauts back to the Stone Age!"

Peck nodded, "Okay, b-but what about you? Where are you going?"

"I'm takin' Ekland and 3rd Platoon ta break through the lines and knock out that ack-ack."

Crane flummoxed, "Sir, you're going to try to break out of the encirclement with a battered platoon? And without support?"

"The German line was always weakest with 3rd Platoon to the western slope. Even now, the Germans pulled most of their men out ta attack the northern slope. We heard them do it last night, and the flyboys said so themselves. We can't be here with our thumbs up our ass. Tell Mercer ta bring two other engineers with us ta 3rd, the rest of his engineers can guard the prisoners. And get Troy over here as well. Let's get ta work!"

This was quite the gamble. If all of Able stayed on the hill, they would have to contend with the breakneck assault from the Krauts along with heavy airburst from 88s which could wipe them out before Dog arrived. If 3rd Platoon leaves the hill, they could destroy the 88s and 38s and spare the men on the hill the bombardment and dispose of flak guns that would punch holes in their armor and planes. However, 3rd Platoon may be overextended, allowing Krauts to slip on through the hill and take it. If he got this right, then his company can endure. But if he got this wrong, his men would be destroyed. The key to all of this involved how quickly the reinforcements could reach them. Which depended on the 88s and 38s being taken out. So, the choice was made.

Currently, 3rd Platoon only had 18 men, less than half its intended full strength. And what was worse was that they were down a squad. To keep Mortain open, Conti ordered Ekland to send a rifle squad reinforced with machineguns from Paine. Mortain was captured and Paine told him that his boys didn't make it out, which meant…

Stay focus, Joe! Don't dwell on it now! Focus!

3rd Platoon was in their position on the trenches that overlooked the eastern slope. The slope was composed mostly of trees, leaves, and bushes, allowing natural cover for the Germans trying to climb it. So far, Conti only had the replacement Lieutenant Ekland, the Platoon Sergeant Duhaney, Fats, Troy, Mercer and two of his engineers, and the battered 1st and 2nd Squads with him. And these were the men meant to breakthrough and disable AA weapons. Like everything in the Army, one had to make do with what one had.

He heard Troy got banged up last night, and the torn and blackened uniform of the sniper reflected that. But he seemed composed as always when he peered down the scope. He was scanning the terrain down the hill, silent as the crypt.

Conti leaned in to whisper in order not to startle him, "What do you see?"

An 88 exploded overhead as the planes made another pass, the men turtled their heads in the fortification. Not Troy. His tone was cold as death, but he answered sincerely, "I count an exact dozen of them down there, sir."

Conti lifted his eyes above the trench. Vegetation was thick on this side of the hill with standing and downed trees and barren remains of bushes. It took a Conti a moment before he saw four German helmets hiding behind the trees and a bush. But where the hell were the other eight?

But he knew better than to question Troy. If he said they were there, they were there.

Conti whistled for Ekland and Duhaney to join him beside Troy. "Point 'em out, Troy."

"Two by that downed tree, forty yards. Four beneath the brush in that impact crater. One by the singular tree on the left, thirty yards. Two behind the parallel trees to the right, twenty yards. Three hiding behind a downed tree fifty yards down."

"Hot damn," Duhaney remarked.

"I-I can't see them," Ekland strained his eyes.

"I can," Conti commented.

He could. As he pointed them out, their still helmets and the outline of their shoulders began to become more distinct. He gave credit for those Krauts who were still, their rifles trained on the hill.

"Why are there so few that are this close?" Ekland asked.

Conti explained, "They're tryin' ta screen their movements, ta make it look as if we're still surrounded and keep our men to this side of the hill."

The hilltop thundered with an 88 blast, right where 1st Platoon would have been if Conti didn't redirect them. The hectic firing of battle on the opposite slope seemed to increase in volume, the droning of planes roared as they soared over the hill, strafing the opposite side. The time was now.

"How are we on ammo?" Conti asked.

Ekland sighed, "Not good. We all got about three clips left, sir."

"Okay, then use the ammo from our casualties."

"We have, sir…"

"Ah shit… Then make sure each shot count."

Conti checked his own ammo. He had three clips of his Thompson, with one full clip already in his gun.

The commanding officer spoke to the men around him, "Listen boys, our reinforcements are coming. But we have to hold out. The flyboys are in trouble from some 38s and 88s, and they saw a few that they may have missed out to the east. That's where we're goin', to track 'em down and destroy 'em. Flyboys say most of the Krauts are on the other side attacking 1st and 2nd. It's up to us!"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, listen up, a carton o' smokes for whoever puts the kebosh to those damn 88s. Wallace!" Conti softly shouted. "Front and center!"

Corporal Scotty Wallace, an Omaha veteran, came rushing in a crouch and got between Conti and Troy.

"Here, sir!"

"We need a rifle grenade."

"Yes, sir. Frag or tank?"

"Frag."

"Gotcha." Wallace was a grenadier. He had an M7 launcher attached to his Garand. He emptied his clip and inserted a blank cartridge into the feed. He placed a fragmentation onto the launcher and pulled the pin. With this launcher, a grenade could be fired up to two hundred yards. How accurately depended on the soldier, especially if he was firing indirectly. But Wallace was a good soldier.

"What's my target, sir?" he asked Conti.

Conti pointed to the bush; Troy explained how many men were behind it. Wallace took a moment before confirming what he spotted, then took precious aim.

An 88 exploded on the hill, the men of 3rd Platoon made a jolt. They had to hurry.

Conti turned to Ekland, Duhaney and Mercer, "Pass the word. Open a base of fire after Troy takes his shot. Duhaney, 2nd Squad targets the Germans on the left, Ekland, 1st Squad targets the Germans on the right. Once you open fire, we're going downhill in a column, I'll lead with Fats on my ass. Send one man down every three seconds. Mercer, your engineers are also a base of fire, you boys will bring up the rear. We'll all converge on the base of the hill in a Vee formation, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Reinforcements are coming from the west; we're hitting the east. Once we breakthrough, we're on our own. Now, Wallace!"

BOOSH! The launcher fired.

The bush exploded; several yells emerged from the slope. Through the smoke, Conti noticed two men flailing backwards. The bush was destroyed, and the four Krauts lay dead.

CRACK! Troy then rechambered another round. A Kraut helmet went flying down the hill, as did a corpse roll.

3rd Platoon opened fire with everything they had. The German helmets dipped as low as they could, a few of those men got hit by the bullets. Conti gritted his teeth, he counted to three loudly, then mounted the top of the trench and scampered down the hill holding his Thompson at the hip.

His head swiveled side-to-side, trying to spot any Germans who were ready to put a bullet in him. He was thirty yards down, and he anticipated one of the dozen Germans were still alive. He kept moving, his breath was becoming ragged from his nerves, he straightened his back as he descended, not wanting to trip over his decline.

A German lifted himself out of cover to yell back down the hill. Their eyes met. Conti raised his Thompson up and gave him a quick spray in the chest. He kept moving down the hill, he saw another German racing to a tree for cover. Before he made it, Conti fired a burst, hitting the man in the torso. He fell to the ground wounded, rolling around in agony. Conti fired another burst to make sure he stopped.

Adrenaline was in his veins; he didn't even think to look behind him to see if the rest of the men were following him. He just had to keep moving forward and watch out for any more Krauts. The platoon descended down the hill, firing at the sporadic Germans that littered that side of the hill. Around 30 Germans were on that slope at that time, instead of the company size that tried to take it last night.

Conti finally reached the bottom that led out into a road that circled 314. The officer was panting hard as he reclined his back against the slope of the hill. He could hear heavy footsteps and panting descending behind him. Then, Fats slid down to Conti's right, then Corporal Ruby slid down to Conti's left, as did Duffy, then Badmouth. Soon the remnants of 3rd Platoon, including Troy, Mercer, Birch, and the replacement engineer Morton, were all in position.

"Looks like that's everybody, sir!" Mercer panted.

"All right, ammo check!"

"I'm out, sir!"

"Me too!"

"I got two clips left of my rifle."

"I'm down to my last clip."

"Same, sir."

Conti's teeth were gritted. How the hell would he be able to take out the 88s when they were so low on ammo? Maybe this plan was insane after all?

At the bottom, they noticed that the Germans were suspiciously absent from the eastern slope of the hill.

"Son of a bitch," Badmouth remarked, "Those stupid bastards really cleared out of the damn side of the hill!"

"They really are hitting 2nd Platoon with everything they got…" Wallace commented.

Conti spotted a two-story French farmhouse that was fifty yards out, he recalled seeing it as Able first climbed the hill yesterday. The ack-ack fire from the 38 was near continuously, and the sporadic booming of the 88 had grew louder.

"Sounds like it's coming past the farmhouse," Troy observed.

"Let's skedaddle before Jerry gets wise," Conti said. He was the first to sprint out from the base and headed towards the farmhouse, his men followed close behind him.

As they got to the farmhouse, a few of the men ran up to the walls of the structure. Duhaney motioned with his hand that someone was talking inside, and they were speaking German. Conti signed for them to stack up and to breach the farmhouse. Duhaney bashed the door in with his rifle, Ruby was the first in with his Grease gun, shouting commands. The platoon began to file in. Conti recoiled when he entered. The farmhouse was full of Krauts, but more than 95% of them were wounded. This was being used as an aid station.

All over the floor and on the furniture sat men of the Panzer and SS Panzer Division covered in bloody bandages, moaning as they clutched their wounds. The only men that were standing were four German medics, who had white pieces of cloths on their bodies with the Red Cross on them. The adrenaline-filled men of the platoon were screaming their lungs out to command the medics to keep their hands up. The medics were shouting back frantically, raising their hands in the air.

"Shut up! Everyone, shut up!" Conti made his voice be heard. He didn't want to be this deep in enemy lines with low ammo and other Germans could hear them.

It quieted, then one German medic was saying, "Nein, Nein! Nicht schissen! Please do not shoot, we have no guns!"

"Sprechen sie English?" Conti asked.

"Ja, Ja! I know English! P-Please do not shoot, these men are hurt really bad. P-Please."

"Where's are the 88s? Where are the flaks? Uh, the Acht-acht." Conti demanded.

"I don't know, m-me and my men have been here since last night. We hear them loudly, but we don't know. I-I-I think they came in earlier this m-morning," the man stammered.

"Hollister, take two men and check upstairs," Conti ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Conti turned back to the translator, "Where the hell are the other soldiers? Where are they?"

"I-I-I… Th-They… American reinforcements came, they said it was b-big. They all went to hold them off. P-Promise!"

Lieutenant Ekland came behind Conti, "What do we do, sir?" he whispered to him.

"I'm thinkin'…"

The bellowing sound of a few 88 cannons echoed outside. Mercer went to the window, "That doesn't sound too far off, sir. Probably a hundred yards or two."

Hollister came back downstairs with a fifth German medic, "It's the same upstairs, sir. All wounded, except this medic right here."

"Please, some of these men are dying. We need to get back to work," the German medic pleaded.

"Shit… All right, Ekland, you stay here at the farmhouse with Hollister's squad, this leads up to the hill and is a vital sector to control. Hold on as best you can. I'm taking the rest of the platoon with me and we're going flak hunting. If you spot armor, do not engage. And keep watch over these Krauts, got it?"

"Understood, sir."

"Radio me on the handie if trouble arises."

"Yes, sir."

Conti spun around to the men, "Everyone else, we're going out to disable those guns. If you're out of ammo, seize some of these Kraut weapon against the walls and sling yours around your back. Let's go."

Conti led his men through the fields of Mortain, making sure that they stuck close to the hedgerows. Including him, there were twelve men skulking behind enemy lands hunting for artillery. It reminded him of his own Ranger days, yet this plan was spontaneous instead of organized.

But this was the Army, and this was war; improvisation determined whether you lived or not.

Conti couldn't effectively study the ground for artillery tracks, since German armor and trucks drove all along the road, leaving tracks in the dirt road to be in shambles. Was he wasting his time here? God, how were the boys back on the hill surviving without him?

He could still hear the booming of the 88s firing at the fighter-bombers that were relentlessly strafing the hill. Fortunately, the sounds were getting closer. They came upon a thick barricade of a hedgerow, and they followed it to the edge, Conti looked on the other side.

It was a battery of three flak 88s that stood ten yards apart from one another in a line. These guns had a few sandbags in front of them. The battery was 50 yards away on open ground. There seemed to be nine to ten men in the entire battery. Ten yards ahead of the flak 88 stood the quad flak 38 firing its automatic 20mm into the sky at the planes. Now how the hell was Conti going to get this close to them? The 20mm was good at shooting planes down, but it was just as effective on ground targets, it was known as the "Infantry Chopper".

Conti relayed what he saw to his men. They weren't all that enthusiastic, and he understand why. But he had a plan.

"Wallace will fire a grenade at the quad when it reloads. Ruby, you'll lead Duffy and Badmouth ta assault the battery. The rest of us will provide a base of fire. Stick ta the side of the hedgerow until ya get in grenade distance. Lob ya grenades, then close in. Move fast! Questions?"

Surprisingly, no one uttered one. Troy crawled out from the side of the hedgerow parallel to the battery, the Germans didn't notice one man crawling so low. Wallace attached his last grenade onto the launcher and loaded his blank cartridge. He stacked up to the edge of the hedgerow, with Ruby's boys right behind him.

The flak 38 and 88s were aiming high at the hill. This was it. It wouldn't do if they fired at his men, he had to wait until they fired.

"Wait until they reload!" Conti told his men.

All three 88s fired in order at the fighter-bombers that circled around the hill. Conti prayed that no man got hit because of that pause. The crew from the quad 38 went to reload as well.

"Go! Go!"

Wallace spun out into the open and aimed his launcher for a solid three seconds. Ruby, Duffy, and Badmouth rushed as fast as they could down the field, sticking to the side of the hedgerow. The rest of the men ran adjacent of the Ruby's boys. Wallace fired his weapon.

An explosion rocked the flak 38, the crew occupying it flew backwards and one man fell off his seat from the blast. Troy fired his rifle, the remaining crew member dropped. Conti could hear the battery men shouting and jabbering in utter surprise.

"Open fire!" Conti roared.

The riflemen dropped to their bellies and formed a firing line and started blasting at the crew of the three 88s. Ruby's team were halfway there at the 25-yard mark, the German crew hopped off their 88s and grabbed their small arms and hid behind the sandbags. They started firing back at the platoon, but they didn't notice the three men running by the hedgerow outside their peripheral.

"Keep it up! They're almost there!" Conti encouraged.

Conti fired his last clip of his Thompson and switched to a German Mauser, by now, most of the men were firing German weapons at the enemy, and still laying down an impressive base of fire. But Conti noticed one German seemed to be ordering his crew to load the 88 and aim it at them.

C'mon Ruby! C'mon!

The three assaulters took out their grenades and heaved it against the closest 88. Three explosions rocked around the gun. The three Americans charged the gun, then threw another set of grenades at the 2nd and 3rd gun once they got closer. Once the grenades blew. Ruby rushed forward into the battery and gunned down two Krauts with his Grease Gun, as Badmouth ran past him to the last gun in the battery and mowed down two other Germans with his Thompson.

"Hold your fire!" Conti ordered his firing line.

The American guns on the line quieted. Duffy was the last of the assault team to make the battery, but he was finishing off the wounded Germans with single shots from his Garand. The area was silent. Duffy and Badmouth took up the job as sentries, scanning the rest of the field for any German reinforcements, while Ruby examined each flak gun and dead crew to see if it was all clear. Ruby looked back down to Conti across the field and waved his hand frantically.

"We're clear, let's go!"

The platoon stood to their feet and sprinted to the guns. "Birch, take the gun on the left! Morton, you got the gun on the right! The center one's mine!" Mercer ordered as they ran.

The Americans reached the guns and took up defensive positions around it, guarding the engineers as they placed their explosives on the gun itself. Once the explosives were rigged, the three engineers shouted for everyone to back away from the guns and to hug the dirt.

"Fire in the hole!" Mercer shouted.

The 88s were rendered inoperable in a deafening flash of smoke. The men began to breathe easier. Within a minute, the planes that circled around the hill to dodge the anti-air fire banked off with impunity and dove once more to deliver a thunderous bombing that Conti and the others could hear from there. Conti turned to Ruby's team. He patted all three of them on the helmet, "Y'all did a great job! I asked a lot of ya three, but ya did it!"

The three Omaha vets smiled with pride.

Fats handed Conti the radio, "Sir, it's Lieutenant Ekland!"

God, this can't be good…

He placed it to his ear, "What is it?"

On the other end, he could hear loud creaking of armor and frantic but muffled Germanic jabbering. Then came Ekland's voice, "Sir, Baker Company is here! They flanked around and they're cutting off the Germans. Krauts are being pushed back out, and a platoon from Baker is reinforcing the hill. They said the enemy is leaving 3-1-4!"

Conti didn't have the energy to smile, "That's good ta hear, and what about our Jerry medics?"

"We still have them here, and Baker is taking them and the wounded as prisoners. Hold on… yep, I see several Shermans coming down the road! I think we're safe!"

Conti could still hear the sporadic rifle and tank firing in the area. "Good job, Ekland. Maintain your position, there is still some fighting left in this area. I'll bring your boys back, out."

Conti faced his men, who were hanging on every word he spoke into the radio. The C.O rubbed his face, and spoke loudly, "The Krauts are pulling out, the siege is broken."

The men applauded and whooped lowly, too exhausted to fully celebrate. Conti was right there with them. His first combat mission as Company Commander, and they survived.

The base of the hill was filled with American activity. Tanks were speeding on down the road to give chase to the Germans, trucks with supplies were moving to the city, and medics from the relief force were bringing down Able Company wounded on stretchers.

Conti was watching this all at the bottom of the hill. Beside him was Captain Bishop and 1st Lieutenant Devin "Roddy" Rodenhaver, the C.O. of Brutal Baker.

Conti spotted the medics bringing down Corporal Gettle of 3rd Platoon on a stretcher as his buddies looked on. He suffered a chest wound and a collapse lung during the night attack.

"Hey, hang in there, Evan," Ruby told him

"Yeah, ya tough, man, keep on toughun' it," Duffy encouraged.

Gettle chuckled weakly, "I told ya, bastards, I told ya I would get it. Back at the town with the Cap, I told ya all…"

They took him and placed him in the back of an ambulance, with the other wounded men of Able. Conti sighed. Bishop urged Conti to take a walk with them.

"That was pretty damn reckless of you, Conti," Bishop told him.

Roddy turned to the captain, "That's rich coming from you, sir."

"Yeah, I know, Roddy. But it's about Conti's plan, you're very fortunate the Krauts didn't climb right up when you left, Conti."

"I couldn't let the flak pound our air support and hold off the armor while we were gettin' assaulted, sir. But I hear ya."

"You held off elements of two divisions. That is incredible, Conti." Roddy commented. "You taking out those guns allowed my boys to take out the other flak positioned around the area. That saved our armor, thanks to you guys."

"Flak?" Bishop asked.

"Yes, sir. A battery of 88s and a quad 20 mil.," Conti explained. "My guess? They brought 'em out anticipatin' Able would be forced off the hill. Then they fortify 3-1-4 with flak weapons, I can't imagine a more defensible position on a hill with quad 20 mils and 88s."

"I knew Able was in good hands when you took over, but this here was just icing on the cake, Conti," Bishop added with a chortle.

"Thank you, sirs. But I gotta thank ya both, and the boys of the Armored. It was touch-and-go for a moment for us."

Conti passed by Lieutenant Pollard sitting on sandbags. The replacement officer's eyes were bloodshot and hollow, staring at the wounded being carried off, down the hill. The young lieutenant's hands were shaking as they covered his mouth. Staff Sergeant Fischer came from behind, he took a seat next to the officer and patted his back in solace.

"We lost a lot of good men," Conti finished.

"We know," said Bishop, "if only we knew sooner, we came as soon as we could."

"I know ya did. Still…"

"Yeah, still…"

Roddy stopped, his voice was soft, "Hey, you did a great job with what you had. You took out the 88s with a handful of men. That's something."

"Thank you, sir."

A soldier from Dog Company called out to Bishop.

"All right, they need me over there. Hey Conti, Lincoln will be pulling your boys out. You guys need a proper rest and refit after today."

"How kind of him. Thank you, sir."

"Happy to help, you know we Dogs always Dare," he smirked.

Captain Bishop took a little bow, then spun on his heels and walked away. Roddy exhaled through his nose, "Always has a way of making it about him, don't he?"

That got a chuckle out of Conti, "Yes he does." He remembered moments when MacKay was exacerbated by Bishop's antics. "But he is a helluva fighter. And that counts."

"Bar none," Roddy agreed. "Hey, if you ever want to talk, about anything, let me know, Conti."

He nodded. That… actually didn't sound too bad. "Thanks, sir. I seriously will consider that."

Roddy craned his neck with a grin, "Oh c'mon. Just because my bars are silver, and yours are butter, don't mean you need a 'sir', with me. Call me, 'Roddy' or 'Devin'."

"Thanks for saving us, Roddy."

"Anytime, Conti."

Roddy tipped the rim of his helmet and walked off.

Joe Conti couldn't even have a minute alone before someone came to him. It was Fats with a report, "Sir, just got word that they'll be having trucks for us to get pulled off the line. About 45 minutes or so."

"Good. That should give us enough time to make sure we're situated."

Both men looked up towards 314, the hill that nearly killed them.

"I can't wait until that thing is in the rearview," Conti admitted.

Fats chuckled, "Yeah, we can put all of Mortain in the rearvi— shit!"

"What is it?!"

"The town! I got to check on something!"

Before he could utter another word, Conti watched as the fat man hustled towards Mortain with a speed that he only saw men have if they were dodging artillery. Concerned, Conti followed him into the town. Surprisingly, only a small part of Mortain was actually destroyed. It was only where the sector that led right onto the road that connected to the hill. Several buildings were rubble, with the French citizens combing through the wreckage. The 4th Armored moved through the city so fast that they destroyed the retreating German tanks while keeping destruction to a minimum.

Fats rushed to the promenade where several houses were destroyed, he searched the area with his eyes trying to decipher something amongst the working crowd.

He grabbed a woman who was passing by, "Uh, uh, excusez-moi, mademoiselle, Jean Travert? Where is Jean Travert et Simon Travert?"

She pointed by the rubble, "Là bas."

Fats looked over there, it was a dozen people clearing the rubble and debris of a demolished building. Conti noticed the color leaving the face of his radioman.

The woman behind him suddenly called out, "Jean! Viens par ici."

A man who was among the crowd looked up, then came walking over to them with a smile on his face, following close behind him was a young boy.

"Fats!" the Frenchman said in English.

The radioman breathed easier, "Jean! Simon!" Both men shook each other's hand. "Jesus, that woman scared me. I thought you were…"

Jean smirked, "Oh no, no, no. Thanks to you Americans, the Allemand are defeated. Thank you."

Simon saluted, "Merci beaucoup, Gras!"

Fats laughed easily. He noticed Conti behind him, "Oh that's right. Lieutenant, this man is Jean Travert and his son, Simon. Best English speaker here. He helped me fixed the wiring with the field phone. And Jean, this is my commanding officer, Lieutenant Conti."

Conti extended his hand, "Merci beaucoup for fixing our phone, if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't be able to prepare. You helped us with the Germans."

Jean shook it, "No, you helped us with them. Thank you, Lieutenant. For you and your men from Able."

Simon saluted Conti. Conti smiled at the ten-year old and gave a professional salute back. Simon grinned from ear-to-ear. That smile on the boy's face made him feel special. As if it was… validation that he played his part well.

Some Frenchmen jogged over to Jean and were speaking to him rather quickly and pointing past the promenade. The face of Jean shrunk in worry.

"What is it, Jean?"

The civilian looked to Conti, "They said your men are digging through the rubble, looking for people."

Conti, Fats, Jean, and a small group of French hustled to where they found the remaining machinegun section raking through the rubble of a building. Paine was in the lead and was silently, but meticulously, flinging bricks away with his filthy hands.

Conti spoke to Corporal Dunlop, "What's going on? What's Paine doing?"

The young machinegunner's hands were on his waist. He looked at the sky before facing his C.O, "It… It was the building Sergeant Gillock was in, sir. And the squad from 3rd Platoon."

The warmth within Conti's chest fizzled. He exhaled mightily before walking towards the rubble and stood beside Paine. Paine stopped, looking up at the officer. Conti looked into his eyes, he then shifted his focus to the rubble, bent over and picked up two bricks with both hands and chucked it away. He spun back around to pick up another brick and he threw that away as well. Paine turned back to the rubble and resumed his action to clear it. Fats joined in as well. Some of the civilians noticed them and began to assist with Jean leading them.

It took them fifteen minutes to dig out the corpses.

Several of the women got old blankets and handed it to Conti. It wasn't pretty. Most of their faces were smashed in by the debris, yet they were recognizable to Able men. The officer draped the blankets over the ten mangled bodies after he removed their dog tags. The crowd stood as a silent vigil.

Jean patted Fats' shoulder in consolation. Paine was the closest man to the bodies. He didn't move nor make a noise. Conti was behind him.

The officer stood there for several minutes. What could he have done differently to have avoided this?

He turned to leave.

"Conti… thanks…"

"Yeah, ya got it, Paine."

Conti and Fats left. The machinegun section looked on.

They were making their way back to the hill when Fats spoke, "Second time…"

"What?"

"It's the second time, I saw someone buried in a building, sir."

"Wha'cha mean, Fats?"

"Carentan… we were leaving… God, that was near two months ago, it seems like years…"

"Oh yeah… I remember…"

The two men spotted Crane approaching them, and judging by his sourness, it wasn't pleasant.

"Crane, what can I do ya for?" Conti asked.

The one-armed man sighed. He dug through his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper with his good hand and opened it. His eyes were on Conti, "I took a roster of the company, sir…"

Conti's stomach hardened to lead, "Tell me."

"We're leaving with 70 men, sir."

Conti exhaled.

Crane continued solemnly, "We have 49 wounded, 15 dead, and 10 men missing."

Conti shook his head slowly, "No, we found the ten… Gillock, Quinn, and Tito of the machineguns. Then there was 3rd Squad of 3rd Platoon: Burrell, Allen, Dickerson, Carter, Stewart, Shropshire, and Gomez. All of them were killed in Mortain…"

"Oh…" Crane placed the paper in the fingers of the hand in the sling. He pulled out a small pencil and scribbled the new corrections on the paper. "49 wounded and 25 dead…"

"Jeezus, we're leavin' wit 70 men. And we came in wit 144."

"I know, sir…"

Conti turned his back on Crane and Fats, his eyes staring at the green trees that blew in the wind. His mind drifted back to Cherbourg, back to MacKay in the café.

He slowly removed his helmet, "Twenty-five letters… I have to write twenty-five letters… I know how you feel, John…"

"What was that, sir?"

"Crane, I got a job for ya. The trucks are gonna take us outta here in thirty, so tell the Platoon Leaders to get the men and their gear ready."

"Will do, sir."

"Crane, before you leave, make sure to tell the Platoon Leaders and Sergeants any recommendations for commendations."

Crane nodded, "Sir."

Conti sat on a sandbag, his helmet escaped his fingers, his eyes fell to the dirt, he didn't have the energy to whip out a smoke. That number still ringing in his ear. He had led men before as a sergeant, and men die or get wounded. That's the nature of war. He could live with that. Yet this, was on a grander scale, because he was the one in command now. The buck stopped with him. All those men were casualties, because of him…

"Lieutenant Conti?"

He raised his head weakly, his voice had lost its energy, "What is it, Fats?"

Fats sucked on his teeth and looked to the side before addressing, "Well, sir, it may not be my place to say… but, uh, I was talking with the other NCOs before I came to see you… and uh…"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Well, sir, we think you did mighty well on your first outing as C.O."

"Yeah?"

"We think so, sir. It was a damn bad mess we were in, but you got us out of it, sir. And they heard how you led 3rd to take out those guns. I personally think you did as good as MacKay."

'As good as MacKay'? You do? Conti's mouth eased in a smile; he could picture John smirking at him with that look of his.

The crustiness in his voice dissipated as he said, "Thank you, Gabe."

Fats nodded, "No problem, sir." Fats walked away.

Joe Conti looked to the ground again, yet his mind flew backwards in time when John MacKay was alive and he broke the news to him about becoming an officer, 'You have what it takes to be an officer, Joe.'

Joe Conti took out his pack and placed a cigarette between his lips

John's face was bright. 'I just followed my gut. I just know that you are supposed to be leading others in a higher capacity. I know it.'

Joe Conti lit a match. John's earnestness was all over his face, 'Listen to me, Joe, you don't have to worry about being the perfect officer, just worry about being a good soldier.'

Joe Conti spewed out the smoke, he raised his head to the hill. I am a good soldier, but I can be better. Twenty-five letters… I will be a better officer.

Thus concludes the Mortain arc.

This chapter was inspired by me playing "Mortain Counterattack" not too long ago. When my reinforcements came, the Germans only attacked my western side with everything they had but didn't bother attacking me from the different directions from the rest of the map. I took the victory points rather easily and disabled the 88s on that playthrough.

I mentioned before that sometimes the game doesn't stick to historical accuracy, but it is particularly egregious in this level. The real battle of Mortain and Hill 314 didn't consist of just one company as portrayed in the game, but by an entire division. It was the 35th Division that stood against multiple German divisions, and instead of it lasting one day as shown in the game, the real battle lasted four to five days with the 35th barely holding on until Patton's tanks arrived. The developers probably had to condense the battle to a single night, no way a single company can hold off MULTIPLE divisions that have armor and artillery for four-five days on a hill.