A Hundred Acre Charge
M.C. Deltat
Chapter 1: Close Your Eyes and Run
My heart pounded as I waited for the ramp at the front of the boat to drop. All sounds quickly dulled as the blood in my ears seemed to beat heavier and heavier. Soon, the only thing that could piece the density in my ears were the pilots, fighting for their lives as they evaded fire from the flak guns, and the gigantic barrage balloons that made up so much of the airspace above the beach. It couldn't be longer than a couple seconds that we waited, and yet I could barely breathe. My mouth went dry. My palms went dry and itchy. I found myself griping my rifle as tightly as possible so that I didn't accidently drop it.
I looked at the other men in the boat. We all knew that there was nothing left… for many of us there would be nothing after. The boat was no longer moving. We were on the beach and there were only seconds before the ramp dropped.
"When the thing falls…" Sam began without looking back, "don't hesitate. We have only one job. Move forward." Sam looked at the ramp as it started clicking into its final disengagement sequence. "It was an honor to serve with you."
THREE.I counted in my mind.
"Christopher Robin?" John whispered at my side.
TWO.I didn't turn my head, but I responded none-the-less. "Yes?"
"I look forward to seeing you again when this is all done." He said.
ONE. I nodded. "Likewise," I responded.
ZERO!
The ramps dropped. Almost immediately, a thick wall of cursed lead impacted against boat and the now exposed bodies. The crash of steel on steel echoed louder than all other sounds. Frankly, I didn't know how anyone could have gotten out off the boat. I assumed some did; Sam was shouting commands in the front. It was drowned out by the noises of Hell though.
Many died as the Nazi machine gunners found easy egress for their bullets. Even stuck in the back of the boat, I could see bodies dropping. It was almost soundless as my countrymen recoiled slightly before dropping like discarded puppets.
The lucky ones anyway. Based on the screaming, a few of those puppets still had a hand on their strings. They got to lie in place, body exploding in agony, able to do nothing but watch as friends trampled over them. For most of the troops, there was only one objective after all: Move onward. The men still standing knew it, the men on the ground knew it, and I knew it. As such, I did nothing different. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do anything different anyway. There was one path open to me after all. I couldn't even hide in the back of the boat. The soldiers behind me were pushing forward so hard… pushing harder and harder to death. So many of us were being slaughtered by machinegun fire as bullets cut through flesh as easily as air. Stuck in a stampede of lemmings, I couldn't help myself as my mind went to dark places.
I am about to die. I am about to die. The thought echoed within my brain. My head frantically went side to side looking for something, anything. I needed… I needed something different. Nothing came to mind though and I resigned myself to charging forward.
Until… I heard a voice to my side.
I think there was someone shouting commands, but I couldn't make it out right away. Then, I felt shuffling at my left and right coming from the other soldiers on the boat. That jolt shocked me out of my stupor a heartbeat later. I finally knew who was yelling. It was John.
"OVER THE SIDES!" he shouted. "OVER THE SIDES!"
Immediately, everyone decided that was better than continuing to charge through the narrow boat exit, myself included. I leaped to the right, alongside John, and began scaling the boat's walls. It didn't take long for the me to get to the top and when I did… I took a moment to gaze upon the battlefield. It was Armageddon. Men from thousands of boats were all trying to make the charge onto a beach littered with chain-link fencing, pikes, trenches, berms, and armed men. Then all the way in the back, behind all that blood and steel, was a massive concrete bunker on the top of a hill. And as I gazed into the bunker, the bunker gazed right back into us.
The machine gun turrets quickly re-adjusted, almost ecstatic at new vectors to fire at. I gasped. We were no longer covered by the walls of the boat. I yelled as loud as I could. "GET IN THE WATER!" I leaped soon after, bullets chasing closely.
Not everybody that hit the water was still living. It was quite easy to tell. The dead ones would just sink immediately, slowly littering the beach bottoms like discarded tires. The living bodies, meanwhile, I watched struggle to wade their way forward without getting their equipment stuck on something… or somebody. I followed closely behind another soldier. I made it a few paces forward when said man suddenly lost his footing and began to fall to the ground. I leaped forward, best you can in water anyway, and caught him before he completely collapse. It wasn't the gentle stillness in my arms that made me aware I was holding a corpse. No, it was a red tinted cloud of water slowly leaking away which proved that this man was dead.
In shock, I dropped him. As he slowly sank to the ocean floor, joining his new legion, I pivoted my gaze up and saw a terrifying sight. I always assumed that bullets couldn't penetrate water with any true force. That assumption was incorrect. Scores upon scores of bullets zoomed through the ocean, leaving shockwaves in the water as they traveled. Their targets, men weighted down by equipment and the mass of the world itself, could do nothing more than slowly press onwards towards the shore.
When my head finally made it above the water, a few things were immediately clear. First, the ocean was more blood than water now. Second, a lot of men had somehow made it onto the sand. They were all in the process of moving forward, trying their best to hide behind whatever sand traps or Czech hedgehogs they could get to. Even the wires anchoring the barrage balloons were used. If it provided an inch of cover, soldiers gleefully employed it as they leapfrogged forward. Third, those attempts to hide from the Nazi turrets had failed for a very large number of men.
"Jesus," I whispered. The invasion of France had just begun; Already, so many of us were dead.
I shook my head in resolution. Gritting my teeth, I ran forward. I had just spotted the rest of my squad, Sam in particular was yelling into a radio, kneeling behind some hedgehogs. Bullets continued to fly at me as I charged over the sand towards familiar faces. I could barely orient myself forward, however, as most of my attention was towards the ground to ensure that I didn't accidently trip over a fallen brother.
Blood was already staining the sand.
Even a few yards away from Sam, his voice was still inaudible. The beach was a cacophony of engines, screams, explosions, and gun fire. The pure density of it almost overloaded my ears. I could barely make out any single source of aural input. If I were to close my eyes, I might have gone mad. It was so easy to just lose track of everything. I had to focus; Focus only on the goal, the endgame for today. Second by second, that was the only way I would survive: Capture the bunker on the top of the hill; second by second, bullet by bullet. I eventually took those final steps to Sam, close enough that his voice pierced everything else away.
"ALRIGHT MEN!" Sam screamed. He looked at the men that had made it this far. A small handful of those that started on the boat… only a few dozens of seconds ago. He exhaled before pointing towards the bunker. It almost 500 meters away with berms, spikes, and guns in the way. "We need to capture that so that we can land our tanks." He turned back towards us. "We still have cover from the planes. We need to take advantage of that during our charge. Those Nazi fucks will be too busy dodging hellfire from above to focus on us."
"Sam," John began, "I think the planes are actually beginning to pull out." He explained as he looked to the sky.
"WHAT?" Sam cried out. He shot up, past his cover, hoping that John had been lying.
I, alongside the rest of the squad, joined them in looking up. The pit in my stomach descended deeper. Whatever planes we had supporting us were limping back to the fleet. Not a single one was clean of bullet holes. Indeed, as they did their acrobatic maneuvers to not get shot down, they painted the sky full of smoke. I looked back to Sam. He was grinding his teeth. He turned his head back to us.
"We only have a few moments left of that distraction," Sam bit out, "Whatever those corpses in the sky can provide, we must take advantage of." He turned around; pistol pointed forward. "CHARGE!".
We followed. Huddling to lower our profile, we charged after Sam. Bullets grazed close by only to explode in the sand, launching fine particle mists into the air. The obstacles we had used as cover, as salvation, also served to impede us. Every three steps forward required another two to the side so we could evade a barrage balloon wire or steel spike. It was so loud. If Sam was yelling new commands, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I had to run; Run as the very air exploded behind, in front, and above.
Wait… That last thought echoed a few beats in my mind before I could fully process it. Explosions above?
I felt a hand on my shoulder pushing me to the ground. I wasn't ready for it. My mouth was soon full of sand. Spitting it out, I pivoted towards the source of my fall. It didn't finish the journey though. I froze when I saw the sky.
"Stay down." John yelled from behind me. He sounded terrified. I think I knew why.
A plane in the last moments of its life had made a wrong turn while evading anti-aircraft fire. It smashed right into a balloon. The plane exploded in a small flash of light as massive chunks from its hull crashed to the ground. Then, the blimp exploded.
A muddy grey sky went bright red. I brought my head back down to protect my eyes. Unfortunately, said eyes went down just in time to watch as molten plane fragments rained down upon my fellows. We had survived exiting the boats. Now I watched as they died. I watched as massive shards of flaming steel piked men into the sand. I watched as a massive cable crashed from the sky right to the ground in a shuttering slam.
Sam was underneath the cable when it fell. Sam was underneath the cable when it landed. Sam was underneath the cable when he died.
My mouth went dry. For a moment, all the strength left my body. I knew that I had to get up, but I just couldn't. Looking at the survivors, at least among my squad, it was clear that I wasn't alone. There were still plenty of soldiers who managed to move forward, but for several precious seconds, my squad was stuck. We started with a whole boat… only a small handful were left now. "When do I die?" I wondered.
I felt someone grab the back of my jacket, pulling me out of my own head. It was obvious whom it was: It was John again.
"We need to keep moving." He slowly snarled out. "We can't let this be it." He struggled as he tried to get me onto my knees. "GET UP CHRISTOPHER!" He suddenly yelled. "MICHAEL'S TRUMPET HAS BEEN BLOWN! GET UP AND ANSWER IT."
Strength slowly returned as I climbed up. First onto my hands, then knees, then back. I trudged forward with legs weighed down by sorrow and sand. When I brought my head up, I saw John near the other members of our squad, yelling at them too.
"UP!' he commanded. They stood. They moved.
Together we all charged those last few steps until we hit the end of the shoreline defenses. Hiding behind a hedgehog for cover, I found myself gulping as I stared at what laid before.
"Jesus Christ." I whimpered. We had hit the end of the German anti-tank fortifications. As such, in front of us was a 300-meter dash up a berm… with no cover. A sandy endurance run while also facing down scores of machine guns with direct line of sight. I shivered in fear behind the steel spike that gave me cover. My heart beat faster to match tempo with the bullets pinging off the metal currently protecting me. "JOH…JOHN," I stuttered. "THERE IS NO COVER."
He nodded. He rolled over to the front of the group, careful not to expose himself that much. Staying low, he slowly peeked over the steel to look at the deadly path lying before us. After a couple seconds, he pointed all the way to the top. I followed his hand only to see the razor wire fencing on the very top of the berm. I quickly pulled my head back when I felt a bullet deflect off my helmet. I whimpered back into cover quickly after that.
"THE VERY TOP OF THAT HILL," John began. "BLIND SPOT FROM THE MACHINE GUNS" he explained. His pulled his hand back.
"NO COVER UNTIL THAT POINT THOUGH," I replied.
"IT'LL BE A STEEP ANGLE." John replied. "STAY MOBILE AND LOW." He didn't give me an opportunity to respond. Instead, he brought a leg forward, preparing for his mad dash. Before he went, he raised his hand to the sky. Strangely enough, no one shot at it. "THAT WAY MEN." He fervently shouted. "THROUGH THE GATES OF HELL, WE END THIS WAR".
As he spoke, we all prepared ourselves. I held my gun firmly and positioned my legs to properly launch me into a sprint. I just waited for John's mark.
"THROUGH THE GATES OF HELL, AS WE MAKE OUR WAY TO HEAVEN!" JOHN screamed. "THROUGH THE NAZI LINES! – VICTORY." He began his charge. We all followed. By God, we followed him into the sandy hill suffering steel hail.
Each of us made our own mad dash up. I huffed as I launched myself forward. Almost immediately, the bullet fire became dense; I swear we did the sprint in shade. I didn't really try to evade any of the bullets, in fact nobody did. It would have been too slow. In any case, there was nothing to evade to. No particular spot felt safer than another. Death flew in from almost every angle I could see. So many of us fell in a quiet crash as bullets punched in. The resulting corpses left bloody trails as they rolled back down the hill, dropping offal onto the sand. But we were determined to take that hill top, sacrificing a wall of flesh as monument to Nazi sins. Every breathe forward, was another breathe lost forever to the world. Seconds ticked along in sync with my footsteps and my anxiety.
But I kept running.
Don't stop to save someone. Don't stop to give respect to the dead. That wasn't my job. My job was to survive. My job was to make it to the top. But oh, I was so tired. My tepid breathes more akin to dry wheezes. Hands once more grew clammy as I became unsure if I even had the strength to maintain a grip on my gun, let alone strength to continue forward. Every step agonizing as sand parted in great waves as it responded to my flailing efforts. I was but moments away from falling to my hands and crawling.
But I kept running.
"Do not stop to count miles, do not stop to count hours." I remembered. A brave man had told me that. Step by step to the top.
A man in front of me had just died. One bullet had gone through his leg which caused him to collapse. When he collapsed, another bullet took advantage of his lack of stability to circumvent past his helmet. The bullet came in through his right eye. I saw it because his head recoiled back as half his face exploded. There was no exit wound however. He… wait… he was no longer a he. It was an it now. Not worth the attention as I still lived and breathed myself. I passed by the buckling body without remorse.
How was I still alive? I don't know. What I did know was that the whistling was beginning to cut into my brain. Whistling? Who was whistling?
"HALFWAY UP!" A voice echoed. "REPEAT HALFWAY UP! DO NOT LET UP!"
I didn't even know who was shouting. The whistling was killing me. Where was it coming from? The planes were all gone, so it couldn't have been that. Yet I was sure that the whistling was coming from the air. My face quickly shot from ground level to sky high in an almost vain attempt to find the source. Despite the stress caused by multitasking, I was eventually rewarded by spotting a slight glimmer in the sky. A slight glimmer that slowly grew larger. It took only a few moments for me to identify what it was.
"JOHN…" I yelled. He was only a few steps away from me.
His head pivoted back, as much as he could afford anyway, to listen.
"….." Strange. No words came out. Was it because I was exhausted? Maybe I was just overstimulated from all that was occurring? I almost doubled over in a coughing fit when the words didn't come out immediately. I saved myself from falling, but I still couldn't get past my damn cottonmouth. Eventually, I just did my best to frantically gesture at the sky. Fate had determined that nothing would leave my mouth, so this was the best way to let John know of the danger. Frankly, I must have looked quite the fool; wasting precious time from a soldier trying to survive. A couple of heartbeats later, he did eventually get the message. As we both looked back up, I wonder if I warned him fast enough.
John's face grew grave as his eyes suddenly lost their shine. He began to shout. "MORT…"
The mortar crashed down right in-between us.
Beat… Beat… Beat…
I didn't warn him fast enough. The mortar exploded in a cloud of shrapnel and sand.
The blast launched me, momentarily, off my feet. A millisecond later, I crashed down into a newly formed crater. Everything was woozy. As far as I could tell, everything was also broken. I tried my best to force the daze back. I couldn't. My hands began the process of inspecting my body anyway. Head, arms, feet, stomach, second head… Wait. Second head? In a roar of pain, I creaked my head down to my lap. There, right on top of my thighs, rested John's bloody severed head.
A scream of despair escaped my lips as my body spasmed to get the foreign matter away. That, as it turned out, ended up being a mistake. The head was launched away, but my scream of despair quickly morphed into a scream of anguish as I very quickly became aware of several lacerations on my person. I almost immediately knew their locations and severity. Yet, despite the pain, I somehow felt as if I could keep moving. Maybe it was the fear of being left here to die alone? Couldn't honestly say. Sluggishly, I pivoted myself around, hands firmly grasping onto the bloody glass particles created by the explosion. At the very least, this crater provided me with cover from the machine gun fire. I slowly climbed my person upright to peak at the battlefield.
Death. Death is what I saw. The machineguns couldn't get at their targets anymore entirely because there were so few left to shoot at. Mortar after mortar rained down upon us. Explosions almost every square meter left no safe space for a person to shelter the storm. Indeed, our charge had become a grim bloody fable that had reached its grim bloody end. Despite my best efforts, I watched as men I knew died. I watched as men I knew exploded. The result was severed limbs laid as far as my shaken eyes could see; Each coated in a fine mist of shrapnel.
I should have looked away. Why did I not look away? I knew the answer. Maybe not consciously, but I knew. It was because of fear. I locked up and tried my best to move no longer. Some ancient part of my brain had decided that maybe, if I didn't move, the mortars would stop. Maybe the death would stop. Nothing better came to mind, so that is what I did. For how long, I didn't know. I just kept frozen; gaze locked on my fallen, brutalized brothers.
Eventually however, my body shook. Was it me doing that? Why were my shoulders swaying? Before I could come up with an explanation, by torso was violently shifted about. Honestly, I was so far gone, I didn't even remember the pain caused by my lacerations. Instead, my limited focus was now entirely committed to the mesmerizing visage of a still living, still whole, kind looking, blonde haired man. Far too kind to be in a place like this. Why was he here? I watched as his lips moved. Was he trying to say something? I couldn't tell that either; a ringing displaced all other sounds out of my ears. I just watched as he tried to carefully enunciate something. Still nothing.
His face grew harsh. Was he aware I couldn't hear anything? His mouth had stopped moving, so I assume he had given up on saying anything. Instead, he pivoted to inspecting my body. After a quick glance, he shifted himself over to my bad side… well my worse side. Carefully, he brought his arms around me and slowly stood us up together. I almost exploded over in pain at first, but he kept me steady by taking even more load off my injuries. At this point, I provided little more than encouragement. He carried me onwards almost entirely under his own power.
We started walking west, parallel to the top of the berm. I wasn't completely aware for the duration of the walk. My mind sort of just defaulted into autopilot for a moment there. What small spikes of lucidity I had were only brought up by pain piercing the hazy stupor I found myself in. At which point, I would murmur or yell, either one. The kind man would then reposition himself, taking a larger share of the load, thus reducing my pain and returning me into the fog. I just went where directed.
I don't know how far we traveled, but I think at some point in our journey, I probably fell over. The major hint was subtle but powerful. Basically, there was a point of awareness where I suddenly realized I was being dragged instead of walked. Frankly, it came to me to me as a massive shock, the fact that I was being pulled along by my legs. It also came of as rather rude to be honest. Without thinking, I tried shifting my hands over so that I could bring myself back up.
That proved a mistake. Just as I attempted to push myself up, something popped out of place, and I immediately blacked out.
Notes:
Hello everyone! M.C. Deltat reporting!
I did promise another chapter quickly. This one is still a little short (still longer than the last). I promise these chapters will get meatier soon. Anyway, thank you for continuing to read this story. I really appreciate it. I apologize for the cliffhanger in the prologue, but the fact that you are still reading means it must have worked. As such, this chapter also ends with a cliffhanger; aren't I a little shit?
I really tried to have this chapter juxtaposition the prior chapter in a massive way. The prologue had people speak of Hope and Faith, causing the men to somewhat find their drive. This chapter immediately dashes hope. Hope is for the victors learning about the war in history lessons. For the men doing the fighting, I think there is only survival.
This story doesn't get massive better in tone for a while, so buckle up if you want to continue reading (please do haha).
See you next week for another chapter. I wish you a pleasant day and a happy life.
