A Hundred Acre Charge
M.C. Deltat
Chapter 2: One in a Hundred
I awoke to gunfire. Or rather, it was the gunfire that woke me. My mind was still groggy, but out of instinct, I shot up. I didn't make it very far however, as strong arms gently impeded my progress before nudging me back down.
"Thanks." I bit out. I wasn't nearly as wracked with pain as I was before, but even that sudden movement was enough to revive certain echoes.
"Shhhhh friend." A strong voice whispered. A large bearded head suddenly brought itself right up to my own head. "Now don't move. I am still fixing you."
A flashlight suddenly turned on. I blinked a few half-dozen times before trying to turn my head away from the light.
"I said don't move." The voice snarled. "As I said, I am still in the process of patching you up."
"By blinded me?" I gritted out. Everything was dizzy. The torch, inches from my eye, was not helping the process.
"Just being careful." The man answered. He pulled back, the tone of his voice changed, as his next few words seemed to not be directed at me. "So, we got all the shards out, cleaned the wounds, then stitched it all up." Was he explaining what he did to me? "Now that he is awake, I immediately went to check for a concussion, which he thankfully doesn't have."
"Are you talking to me?" I groaned. I resisted the urge to look. He had already told me to not move twice, after all.
"No, speaking to my junior over there, Max." The medic, I assume, pointed over my head to another man sitting on the other side of my person. He was probably the one currently holding me down.
Max bent over to allow me a look at his face. "Hi," he whimpered. "I'm Max, apprentice medic." He then pointed to the grumpy man that almost blinded me before adding, "That's Robbie, head medic."
I moaned. "Charmed. I'm Christopher." I diverted my gaze from the two of them, to try to gather some insight into my current location. It looked like I was resting on a flat section near the top of the berm. Just a few paces forward, a bunch of men were holed up right behind the barbed wire. Bullet fire continued to come, but the angle was too steep at this point; We were temporally safe for now. Only issue was the fact that I didn't recognize anyone. I couldn't even find the man who had likely saved my life. "Hey, the soldier who brought me here, he was blond I think, where he is?"
Robbie spoke up this time. "That was Sterling. He decided to go back to see if he could find any other survivors."
I gulped. The question refused to come out. I could only force out a single word out in the end. "Survivors?"
Robbie nodded. "Yes survivors." It looked like he considered his words carefully before speaking further. "Unfortunately, most all of the men in your platoon who participated in the charge died. We are trying to do what we can," he nodded vaguely west. I assume that is where I was brought in from. "But the mortars blighted the earth itself." Robbie sulked, as if he could barely handle the stress. "I am hoping for the best, that we can find more of our brothers, but the odds aren't great."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I simply let my head fall back down, serenaded by the ever encroaching, ever present, symphony of death.
"Well," Robbie sighed, "I can at least focus on saving what is in front of me. Can't do much about those far away from me." He knelt back down, refocused on the person in front of him, which is to say, me, I suppose. "You probably feel like shit, but trust me, the damage isn't nearly as bad as you might think." He started pointing to bandaged sections of my body, counting them off while describing the damage. "Most of these scratches, while bloody, weren't particularly deep. The metal fragments remained in the flesh too, which helped staunch the bleeding. Definitely would have been painful to move around though, what with those shards exacerbating any cuts. Frankly, probably better that you passed out and stopped moving entirely." He looked back at my face, "it might still hurt, but it won't be anywhere nearly as bad as it was before."
I nodded. I didn't feel great, but I didn't think I was close to passing out. That was when Robbie's face grew pale. Uh oh, I might have been a little to hopeful.
"Here is the unlucky part. Your arm's been popped out of its socket. I need to get it back in there."
My eyes widen in shock. It didn't occur to me until now, but my arm had been lashed so that it wasn't moving around anymore. I suppose that was why I hadn't realized. I looked over at Max, desperation in my eyes. He nodded before taking out a small syringe. He slowly brought it down to my neck.
At least he did until Robbie told him to stop. "Belay that Max." The apology was obvious in his eyes. "We have a very limited supply of the happy juice. I can't use it on people I think don't need it." He pointed at my heart. "Unfortunately, you aren't nearly worse off to justify me giving it to you."
"Worse off?" I asked. "How much worse have you seen." Max's face grew a tad greener.
Robbie answered grimly. "A lot, Christopher. A lot." He nodded at Max, pointing at my right clavicle. Max nodded in return and pressing firmly on it, putting almost his entire weight on me. Boy that he was, it wasn't a lot. Robbie, meanwhile, pulled a dowel out of his pack. He bent down, bringing said dowel over to my mouth, before saying, "Bite down on this. We don't want you going through your own tongue." He explained.
Regretfully, I opened my jaw up. Robbie put the dowel right in. I could feel sweat gliding down my forehead. I saw Robbie's gaze comb across my visage. My panic had to be obvious to him.
"I won't lie to you friend. It will hurt" Robbie frowned. "It will hurt a lot. But the pain is frontloaded. All of it happens immediately, and then it slowly dulls out." He positioned himself over my arm. "I recommend you find something to focus on, friend. Helps to keep you distracted." He nodded at Max, who nodded back signifying his readiness. "Are you ready Christopher?"
I had a couple deep breathes. As deep as I could manage with dowel in my mouth anyway. I allowed the noise of the still occurring gun barrage to wash over me for a moment, trying to enjoy the bright side that a popped arm socket could be fixed. Death from bullet or bomb had no recovery option. I nodded, wincing just a little bit as I moved. At least the rest of my body was a tad better.
"Good." Robbie nodded back. "I'll do it on the count of 5." His grip on my arm grew tight. "1… 2…." He began. "3... 4!"
Pain flashed red hot up and down my body as the bastard rammed my arm back into its socket a second early. I roared in fury, unable to fight back the tears leaking out already. "You… you…" words failed me. "Supposed… 5 seconds…" I stuttered out.
Robbie got really low to my shoulder, inspecting that everything was in its proper place. The constant prodding really did add to the pain, but it might as well have been a molehill on top of a mountain. Robbie huffed. "Past experience. Sorry, but soldiers tend to flinch when we get to five. I've found better results doing it a beat early, right before the man can respond." He tapped my forehead fondly. "Had to be done. I know it hurts, but just hold on. It'll feel better soon enough. Take it slow, but once the pain stops, you are cleared to return to battle." He gazed at the berm peak. "Whenever it resumes anyway." Robbie turned back to Max. "He is stable. We are moving on."
The pair of medics walked away, searching for the next man to save. I, meanwhile, continued to lie there, boiling in pain. Thunder crackled in all my nerves, even some whose existence I wasn't aware of. In that pit, I tried to focus on anything different, else I let the agony consume my soul. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the men holding position at the peak of the berm. They were intense fellows, watching the Nazi lines through gaps in the fencing. They had to be, I suppose, to have made it this far. Farther than I made it, anyway.
All the focus that I could muster, as much as the wall of pain would allow, all of it I dedicated to trying to listen to those men. I couldn't stomach being in my mind right now. It was too toxic a place at the moment. Looking inwards wouldn't get me through this, I had to look outwards. I breathed deeply and let my ears hear. The first voice I heard was tepid, very high strung. My immediate impression was of a man who did not tolerate his orders being denied, for however slight reason.
He was currently dealing with denial.
"WHERE ARE MY DAMN BANGALORES!" The man yelled.
"STILL ON THE WAY SARGE!" another man replied.
"WE MANAGED TO GET WHERE WE SUPPOSED TO BE. WHY COULDN'T THEY?" Sarge cursed. He paused for a moment, "YOU" he screamed.
"ME SIR?" a hesitant voice replied. Wait, was that Max? I thought he went to go help other patients?
"GO FIND PAUL! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BRING ME MY DAMN LANCES!" Sarge ordered
"BUT SARGE I AM…" Max was interrupted before he could finish.
"THAT MAN IS TOO FAR GONE, PRIVATE. GIVE HIM SOME HAPPY JUICE, AND FOLLOW MY ORDERS." Sarge insisted.
"SIR." Max relented. I assume he scurried away. It was difficult to tell, consumed in pain as I was. Although, it seems like Robbie didn't totally lie. It was slowly washing away.
The sergeant seemed to stop yelling for a moment, content to wait for his equipment. Well, content as one could be while ass deep in sand, with bullets flying just barely over your head.
I meanwhile, started just zoning out. With nothing better to do, I just started counting the bullets that passed over head.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen…
How is the rest of my body? Robbie said I would be cleared to move, but surely that wouldn't be the case.
Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four…
I slowly started wiggling my toes, then my feet, then my ankles, onwards. As soon as a particular piece of my body passed muster, I moved to the next.
Forty-five, Forty-six. Forty-seven.
I guess the scars weren't actually as bad as I thought. As I shifted a bandaged section of my person, it became very apparent that not having metal shrapnel scratching up my internals seemed to help a lot. Even my arm, while still sore, didn't roar as much as it did moments ago.
Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three.
Wait… Hold on. Didn't I already do fifty-three? I could swear I did that number already. Ah fuck it. I give up.
"HEY YOU." I think that was the Sergeant's voice. Who was he calling out now? "ARE YOU GOOD YET? ROB TOLD ME YOU COULD TAKE POST ON THE BERM!" He continued.
Wait… was he talking to me?
"GET OFF YEE FUCKING ASS!" He commanded. "I WON'T TELL YOU AGAIN."
Without further concern, I launched up. Stuff was still a bit sore, but I managed. Unfortunately, I stood up straight. Immediately, I felt several pings off my helmet. By the time I launched myself back down, my helmet had actually fallen off my head. "Ohhhh," I breathed out deeply. Had I almost died there?
"STAY LOW, MORON." Sarge roared. "DID NAPTIME MAKE YOU FORGET WHERE WE ARE?"
I got up again, slower this time, and then crouch-walked my way over.
"PRIVATE, WHAT'S YOUR NAME!" Sarge asked. "AND WHERE IS YOUR RIFLE?"
"PRIVATE CHRISTOPHER ROBIN." I answered. "I DON'T KNOW WHERE MY RIFLE IS. IT MUST HAVE BEEN DROPPED…"
"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR LIFE STORY PRIVATE." Sarge interrupted. He pointed to a gun lying in another man's lap. "GRAB THAT ONE. TAKE THE AMMO TOO."
The order was weird, but I followed it. I crawled over to the man, while doing my best to not raise my head above the berm limits. Why was I being ordered to take that soldier's gun? Best reason I could think of was that the man appeared to be completely shellshocked. He had his head down and body weight completely supported by the sand. It looked like he had passed out. Oh well. I finally got over to the man, firmly gazing at his rifle and ammo belt. I pulled both away from him, there wasn't much resistance, before beginning to turn back. It was in that pivot, that I raised my head up to a slightly higher angle. I saw his head. My initial impression of his state was wrong.
The man was missing his face. All of it. Instead, he had an impacted crater, a window, that allowed me to see the imploded remains of his brain. I froze for a moment. Partly out of fear… partly because I had to fight the vomit threatening to spill out of my mouth.
"DO I HAVE TO ORDER YOU BACK TOO?!" Sarge's voice echoed behind me. "GET BACK HERE. TAKE A POSTION ON THE BERM!"
Once more, I did what he told me too. I ran to my newly designated position on the front lines. It was an open spot firmly in the soldier line, right underneath the wire mesh. To my limited knowledge, there had not been any attempts to penetrate past the steel barrier. Trying to remove the razor wire would have been too risky if done in person. Still, I wonder, how long would we have to wait till we try a new assault?
"SARGE!" A new voice screamed. "Paul reporting!"
I looked over to see a new man, a tall man, walking over with a very bloodied Max. Both were running over, bangalores in toe. Paul, as he called himself, seemed weirdly joyful. He had a proud look about, one that I hadn't seen in anyone else here. Max meanwhile, seemed like he had been sent through the ringer. Practically, he was still fine, but there was a lot of superfluous damage. He had the look of someone operating entirely on the tail end of an adrenaline rush. His eyes, framed with blood, were fluttering.
"WHERE WERE YOU?!" Sarge asked.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO MAX!" That was Robbie. He charged over and began inspecting the bloody boy. Were they brothers or something? Weird.
Paul walked right up to the Sergeant, a confident bob to his gait. "SORRY SARGE," he began. "YOU KNOW I WAS BUSY DOING MY PART."
"DOING YOUR PART?" Sarge asked.
"KILLING NAZIS!" Paul laughed. "DON'T MIND MISSING THE START, AS LONG AS I AM THERE IN THE END." He put his hand on Max's head. "I APPRECIATE YOU SENDING THE BOY OVER. ALTHOUGH, I THINK I HELPED HIM MORE THAN HE HELPED ME."
Robbie gave Paul a dead glare as he grabbed Max away. Not before Max could squeak out a thank you though. Paul laughed the tension away as he ran up to his sergeant.
"WELL THEN," Sarge began, "WOULD YOU KINDLY STEP UP AND KNOCK ON THE DOOR FOR ME." He pointed to the razor wire. "PLEASE LET THEM KNOW WE ARE HERE."
"GLADLY!" Paul jogging up to the berm peak. Just before he made it to the top, he purposely collapsed, catching himself with a hand. Then, he started crawling the rest of the way, bangalores held under his arms.
"EVERYONE GET READY!" Sarge yelled. "GUNS LOADED AND HELMETS ON!"
Paul finally got to the peak of the berm, mere moments later. He went through the process of setting up the lances, lighting a number of fuses, before throwing them underneath the mesh.
I watched Paul, before turning back to look at the others. I saw all the other men with resolute looks on their faces. Even Sarge and Robbie had their eyes firmly locked on the berm and those lances. Max, however, had his eyes glued on Paul instead. Exhaustion long forgotten; he had his eyes unwaveringly locked onto the man on top of the berm.
The lances had been resting underneath the fence for a couple heartbeats now. Paul, I could tell, was more excited than I was; more than anyone else here. He leaned up slightly before turning back. "FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIVE SECONDS."
Bang.
A bullet pinged off Paul's helmet. He was almost surprised by it, as if getting shot at was something he had never considered.
"GET DOWN." Sarge yelled.
"GET BACK HERE." Robbie added.
Paul immediately about faced, before jogging back down. Only, in his shock… in his terror, he forgot to lower himself. Paul tried charging back down the berm, as fast as he could, without cover.
The Nazis couldn't have asked for more.
The next bullet hit him in the upper thigh. His leg immediately buckled, causing Paul to crash into the ground.
"NOOOO!" Max yelled. I watched as he stood up to run to Paul. "WE HAVE TO HELP HIM!" he yelled. He was only steps away.
"GET BACK MAX!" Robbie commanded. "MAX COME BACK." Robbie hesitated for a few moments when Max didn't listen. "Ah fuck it," Robbie gritted as he ran after him.
Yet another bullet hit Paul in his lower back, right near the spine. He recoiled almost in sync with the injury, while also releasing a roar of pain into the sky. Only issue is, when he recoiled back, he fell right onto the barbed wire. As gravity took effect, it ripped his back to shreds, locking it into a truly painful, entrapped position; almost as a rabbit stuck in a hunting snare. The unbearable roaring grew until it faltered, most likely due to Paul's vocal's cords. It was but a mere whimper now.
"PAUL!" Max had finally crawled up to Paul. He reached out to grab Paul by the hand. But when he pulled, all he got in return were Paul's ragged, pain-ridden moans. Max eventually whimpered away, unsure of what to do.
"M…a…x…" Paul bit out.
Max looked back, unsure.
"RUN!" With a roar of fury, Paul lifted up his legs and kicked at Max. I could see the razorwire slashing deeper into his back as he used it for leverage to support himself. Max, with pain in his eyes, was shocked at being kicked. He didn't know why Paul pushed him away. Max forgot of the danger.
Paul didn't, but he was too late.
The bangalores exploded in a shockwave of sand. Partially formed glass, fencing, … and Paul's eviscerated remains rained upon the surrounding men. Max's entire front was soaked in blood, but that wasn't the worst of what he had to deal with.
The explosions had destabilized that entire section of the berm. Liquified sand began to drain, as if water, onto the Nazi side of the battlefield. Anything within spitting distance, was dragged along with it, towards certain doom. Still in shock from Paul's kicks, Max laying on the ground, didn't have the distance nor the time to recover. Despite Paul's final efforts, Max had not been knocked far enough away. He quickly found himself trapped in a sand torrent that dragged him away from his allies. Within a few milliseconds, he was dangling upon the precipice. He would have most certainly fallen in if it weren't for Robbie, who with a diving leap, managed to grab onto Max's ankles while locking his own against some loose razor wire.
"Helllllpppp mmmee" Robbie groaned out in pain. He did his best to support Max, who dangled perilously over a crack in the berm. However, Robbie started to slide further in as the razor wire slowly began to falter. Both were beginning to encroach upon the point of no return.
"GRAB THEM" Sarge yelled. "GO!"
I didn't react in time. I froze. The panic stilled my heart. I swear… I swear my brain sent the commands to my body, but my muscles, they refused to comply. Instead, out of fear, it felt like my feet bored themselves deeper into the sand. A willful rebellion of what my soul wished it had the courage to do. I could only stand there and watch as a couple men, both braver than I, each leaped towards Robbie's legs.
Unfortunately, the Nazis were faster. A bullet storm crashed into Robbie and Max. Not everything hit lethal areas, but it didn't have to… enough hit for accuracy to not matter. Blood splattered all over the sand, in addition to the two soldiers holding onto Robbie's ankles. The shock of it all caused them to loosen their grips. Max fell first, already loose in Robbie's slack, soulless fingers. Robbie slid away mere moments later, after slipping through the fingers of the soldiers. From the sound of the impact, I can only assume he crashed into Max.
Eight seconds. From Paul igniting the bangalores to the ultimate death of three good soldiers… just eight seconds. My palms were sweaty. I could feel a panic in the air. No one know what moves we should make next. No one offered any ideas either. We all just started at the sergeant, waiting for direction.
He said nothing. Instead, Sarge slowly made his way over to the two men, who were still frozen as they lied on their chests. Sarge bent down, close behind, and asked a question. "Do you two feel safe as you are right now?" They shifted as panic began to settle in, but Sarge interrupted. "Wait. Don't move just yet." Sarge requested. "Just answer. Do you feel safe?"
Both men nodded.
"Good" Sarge nodded. He pivoted around before pointing to the nearest soldier. "You. Give me your bayonet."
The man hesitated for a moment.
"Private." Sarge began. "Give. Me. Your. Bayonet." He firmly repeated.
The man dumbly nodded, unscrewing his bayonet from the tip of his rifle. He then bent forward to give it to his sergeant. Bayonet in hand, Sarge then took out a mirror and taped the two together. Slowly, he handed it over to one of the two soldiers still prone on the berm hill.
"Use that to take a peek past the berm. What does it look like on the other side?" Sarge ordered.
As demanded, the soldier pushed the tip of the bayonet, with mirror, past the edge of the sandy hill. Trying to not draw attention via movement, he then carefully peaked.
"Well?" Sarge asked.
"There is a massive ditch, adjacent right to the berm, on the south side sir." The man answered. "Maybe half as deep as the berm is tall."
"Can you see the bunker?" Sarge continued.
"Yes." The man pivoted the mirror for a better look. "I'd say about 50 meters past the ditch is another razor wire fence. Beyond that is a trench that appears to circle around into the bunker."
"Alright then." Sarge began pulling away. "You can come down now." He turned to the rest of his squad. "I NEED MORE BANGALORES!" he ordered. "WE ARE GOING TO DO THE HONOR OF FILLING THE NAZI'S HOLE FOR THEM. YOU TWO," he pointed at the closet two men, "HANDLE IT. THE REST OF YOU, PREPARE FOR A CHARGE! MOVE!"
People scurried about immediately. The two men picked out jogged to the supplies, intent on bringing forward as many explosives as they could. Everyone else, meanwhile, started checking their guns and praying to God. Hopeful that one or the other would see to their lives. There still was plenty to do after all.
I did not move. I barely breathed. I just stood there for a while waiting for my legs to unlock. When they finally did, I collapsed in place. The gasping started soon after.
No one bothered me during the panic attack. I assume anyone coming near gave me a wide berth. No matter; I would have not noticed them anyway. I was too busy trying to making sure I didn't suffocate. But no matter how hard I tried, it just felt like I couldn't get any air into my lungs. A coughing fit came next. Blood might have come out, but I couldn't be sure. The shakes had finally come, and I didn't have an opportunity to check.
I tried my hardest to stabilize with deep breathes, but it just wouldn't work. Best I could manage, was to hug my legs into a fetal position. I must have been a shameful sight, sitting on my ass on that berm. At least my shaking wasn't as obvious anymore.
I don't know how long I sat there. I seemed to be trapped in my own head…until I felt a foreign presence caressing my back. Before I could manage a peak however, a calming voice cooed in my ear. "What's 5 times 2?" he asked.
"Wh…what?" I stuttered out in-between of ragged gasps.
"Come on." The voice insisted. "5 times 2."
"10," I cried out.
"17 times 4?" the voice continued.
"68," I took a hair longer, but still cried it out soon enough.
"11 times 15?" another question came.
"155," I shot out.
"A little off" the voice gently chided. "Try one more time."
I paused for a beat; irregular breath filling my lungs. After a moment, I answered him. "165."
"Good." There was approval in the voice. "Now, 17 times 23".
"Uhhhh," I froze as uncertainty gave pause to the gasping.
"Quickly please. 17 times 23" The approval in the tone pivoted to sternness. "No wrong answers."
"Ah," I stuttered as my brain searched for the energy to answer. "Um, 3, uh, 390 … 391." I mumbled.
"I didn't hear you." The voice replied. "What was your answer?"
"391." I answered more confidently.
"Good." I couldn't see it, but I was sure the man was nodding. He had never stopped rubbing my back. "Now, I need you to find me five blue things that you can see."
"What?" I asked.
"Just do it." He insisted.
I nodded. My head shot around, scanning the horizon. "Uh, the ocean, the sky," I began. I pointed to a man, "His blue eyes… I think that counts as two." When he said nothing, I looked for one other thing.
It was difficult. Nothing really popped out as fast as the first few things did. My head darted back and forth, trying to spy something small, something that I might have missed. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. "Got it, that man's socks," I pointed in achievement.
"Good job." The man approved.
As the man moved to look at the socks, he finally entered my gaze. It was Sterling: the man who brought me here in the first place.
"Huh," Sterling inspected. "I don't think those are regulation." He looked back at me with a soft grin. "We shouldn't tell Will about that."
"Will," I asked confused.
"Sarge," Sterling pointed over to the sergeant. He was currently yelling at the men moving the bangalores. There was a giant stack of them already positioned on the berm, but I suppose Sarge was going for redundancy.
"Are you on a first name basis with the sergeant?" I asked.
Sterling smiled. "Publicly, Will would say no. Privately…" he paused for a moment before continuing, "Privately, he would also probably say no." He shook his head. "Let's just say, him and me go back."
I considered that for a moment, but couldn't really think of anything to add, so I moved on. "Uh," I began awkwardly, "My name is Christopher Robin, by the way. Thank you for helping me." A heartbeat passed. "…Both times," I added.
"Pleasure to meet you once again Christopher." Sterling said. "This time with your hearing working better." He looked at the berm, bullets still firing over consistently. "A little better anyway."
I nodded. "So uh, did you find more survivors? You know, after you left me to Ro…" I froze before I could say the name.
Sterling spoke before my mind could go into dark places, thankfully. "Yes," he said. He pointed behind me. I turned my head only to see half a dozen injured men lying on blankets. I didn't recognize any of them.
The frown returned on my face. When I noticed, I did my best to suppress it; don't know if I succeeded or not.
"I didn't have …" Sterling began.
"STERLING, CHRIS!" Sarge screamed, interrupting whatever Sterling was going to say.
We both about faced to look at him, back straight.
"Take positions onto the edges of the blast zones." Sarge pointed to a couple spots at the berm.
I looked at the spots that Sarge had directed Sterling and I to. Well, I tried too, but I was immediately captured by how many bangalores had been set up. A lot; Enough that I couldn't count them at a glance. I, meanwhile, was being directed to a spot directly adjacent to the edge of the blast zone. I began making my way there, taking my position next to a squirrely looking black haired soldier. Did I look as terrified as he did? Was it that obvious?
Sarge, meanwhile, took a position that allowed him to gaze at all, if not most, of his men. "LISTEN UP," he yelled. "The moment those explosions burst… The moment there is a tangible void in-between the structure of the berm, I want immediate covering fire." He made sure to look at each of us. "As fast and as wide as you can spread the support, I want you to do it. The hole will be fairly wide, but practically, it still will be a funnel as far as the Nazis are concerned. You are to provide enough fire that some of them, even if just a couple, hesitate before firing."
He waited for someone to ask a question. No one did, so he continued.
"The explosions should dislodge the sand enough so that it spills and fills the ditch." He explained further. "Not completely, but enough for us to have a safe space to leap to. From there we continue the charge." Sarge paused once more. "Any questions?" he concluded.
"Who leads the charge?" one among many dozens asked.
"I will. A leader leads." Sarge answered. He glanced at the blast zone. "Now men, stand to join me. We run on my time." Scores of men charged into a position behind their commander. Once in place, and Sarge was satisfied, he looked at the men ready to light all the fuses. "On my mark."
They brought up their lights, ready to ignite an explosion to shake the Earth.
"MARK!" Sarge yelled. Dozens of bangalores were all ignited simultaneously.
5 seconds. I remembered from the first ones. It takes 5 seconds for the fuse to cause an explosion. I glanced at Sarge… at Will. 4 seconds. I would have expected fear, hesitation, regret, anything. Yet, nothing of the sort appeared upon his face. It was pure resolution and conviction in what he had to do. 3 seconds. Were the rest of his men that sure of themselves? No. I could tell that at a glance. I could see fear there. They followed Will none-the-less though. 2 seconds. I looked over to Sterling. What would his face look like? Would he have fear on his face, like oh so many here? 1 second. No. Sterling had the same look as Will had. Did I have the same resolve? The same confidence? 0 seconds.
No.
The berm exploded in a plume of fire and light.
A cloud made up of thousands of kilos of sand shot into the sky. Frankly, it was almost mesmerizing. Luckily, Sterling was right by me to pull me, and everyone else, out of the daze.
"FIRE!" he shouted.
A battalion of rifles, peaking through the newly formed hole in the berm, immediately let loose. A deluge of steel pierced through the sand column, charging straight at the Nazi lines. It was impossible to aim with all the dirt in the air, and I couldn't tell if we had hit anything. While I shot my rifle, I turned down to the sergeant. He was waiting. I turned back. The sand in the air was now falling, having expended most of its energy. It now gently trickled down, creating a massive shroud over the battle field.
"ATTACK!" Sarge shouted at the very top of his lungs. He began his charge immediately. A moment later, his men all followed. Legion charged through the sand veil, leaping into the battlefield beyond the sight of those providing covering firing.
We did continue to fire, even after losing vision of them. A clip and a half later, the sand had completely fallen from the sky. I now had an uninhibited sight of the hell my fellows charged through.
Make no mistake, we were still in Hell, even after we had made it so far.
As the soldier had judged with the mirror earlier, it was indeed a 50-meter dash from the berm to the razor wire. Our men had managed to make it past about half of that. Looking at the ground that made up the first 25-meters of the journey, well, I felt a hole in the pit of my stomach. I was thankful for the fierce grip I had on my rifle; else my hands would have started shaking.
It was a massacre. Was our suppressing fire helping at all? Scores upon scores of men fallen onto the earth, with open wounds draining blood into the sand below. There was an aura of agony hanging over that small 50-meter expanse. The pain of men who would see no assistance, no care, right until their moments of existence. No one would stop for them. Every man who was capable simply leaped over the fallen, eyes focused on the ditch beyond.
And here I was, with a god's eye view of this terror. Yet looking at those soldiers, who so bravely charged and died, I had to wonder, did it look the same when my squad did our 300-meter dash up? Did we look brave or morbid? I pivoted my sight from the men dying in the back to the men still charging in the front. I saw Sarge, still proudly leading. His group were so close. Bangalores in hand, they were mere moments away from destroying the fencing protecting the trench entrance. Despite the Nazis returning fire, our guys were now a mere 5 meters away. Sarge still led, resolutely. At least he did, until he took a step and seemed to paused for a moment. It was really strange, as in a heartbeat, he had pivoted about and seemed poised to shout something to the rest of his men.
Before he could say anything however, a tremor shook the berm as a cloud of dust and blood appeared in the spot that Sarge once inhabited. The men following him, which was everyone since he had been leading, froze in panic.
"LANDMINES!" a few shouted.
With that, what was once a diligent charge to the end, turned into a chicken shoot. Men scrambled back and forth panicking, as they tried to evade landmines they couldn't possibly see. Most failed completely. Many small red tinted clouds bloomed into the air as soldiers took unlucky, final, steps. Those men who had luckily made it to the front, who had been so closely following Sarge? Their moment of hesitance had cost them. Indeed, they covered said cost with their lives when the Nazis gunned them down like dogs, a heartbeat later.
"They are panicking" I could hear Sterling shouting. "The front line is in tatters, and the back line is in disarray." He began climbing down from his place on the berm. "We need to reinforce. We need to take back the momentum." He looked at some of the other men positioned on the berm, most still providing limited supporting fire. "Come down here, guns locked and loaded. Prepare to charge."
I looked from Sterling, unsure of what I should do. My gaze shifted across all the other men, eventually stopping at the squirrely looking soldier next to me. He had already looked away, pivoting back into supplying supporting fire.
Sterling looked unperturbed when no one immediately joined. He pointed to the gap in the berm. "The men already there have had their resolve broken. We must reignite it to ensure the fallen didn't die for nothing." He lifted his gun, bringing it to attention. "The first wave made it almost 95 meters before hitting the landmines. That means that the landmines are just in-front of the trenches. I remember from another battle; landmines are generally fairly shallow. We can trigger them with a few well-placed shots. Hopefully, with how close the landmines are, that will also serve to blow the razorwire." He was in place, right before the entrance. "Everyone on the other side dies for sure if we do nothing. They will not be able to recover from the panic without us."
2 or 3 seconds. Sterling had only taken about that long to come up with a plan and sell it to us. That was also how long men had been trapped on the Nazi side of the berm, exposed to gun fire, with no hope of finishing the run. I took a quick breath. Men had begun hustling their way down to Sterling. A few hadn't, the black-haired man next to me hadn't, but most had decided to go. I decided quickly, sliding down into position right away.
There was no further preamble, no further inspiration speech, from Sterling. Time was not on our side after all; The screams made that very clear. Our impromptu legion charged through the breach.
I was expecting there to be a drop, couldn't imagine that we would have been able to fill the entire ditch. I was not expecting that drop to be 7 meters though. I doubled over when I finally landed, floundering for a moment as I tried to resist the urge to fall over. Peripherally, I noticed several other soldiers handing it poorly as well. Some of the truly unlucky ones tripped, failing to catch themselves after the drop. They fell off their feet, off the backfilled section of ditch, into a deep gorge.
"CLIMB, CLIMB!" Sterling shouted. "UP AND OVER!"
I righted myself just in time to watch as Sterling leaped the 1-meter difference between backfill and ground surface. It was a single crisp jump. Others did their best to follow, albeit slower and far less gracefully. After I confirmed my legs were up to the task, my legs bit into the vertical cut that Sterling had so easily hopped over. Not quite trusting my leaping ability, I holstered my rifle to my back and climbed. I grabbed large clumps of soil, barely held together by roots, careful to not collapse anything; Falling on my ass was not advisable. A few handfuls later, my head found itself peaking over the surface level. It was interesting seeing the battlefield again, for the first time, in this perspective.
God's eye view gives you a certain omnipotence, in addition to a sense of safety, in your capacity to see all. Down here however, man-to-man shoulder-to-shoulder, it is the complete opposite. You saw nothing, and every inch you moved forward meant more exposure to death.
I'd done this a few times now. My heart still felt like it was going to break out of its prison within my chest. I wondered if it ever got easy. My eyes glanced over to Sterling, the leader of our band. He charged from the front, inspiring all the men he passed. It seemed to not matter whether a soldier was already here in the first place or if he came down just now, Sterling was able to unify all in a new charge.
It must get easier. I had to believe that, how could I continue to move forward if that wasn't true. After finally pulling myself over, legs firmly on stable ground, I took a deep breath and roared. Rifle in hand, heart beating irregularly in chest, I played braver than I actually was. As fast as my legs would take me was as fast as I went.
Men had died here. I ran regardless. Didn't even waste a glance at bodies fallen from a failed maneuver… I wouldn't. There were too many. In any case, they died doing a job: dying. Here, I found myself doing the same job; Likely the same end as well.
Halfway there… The thought echoed in my head.
We had made it 50 meters. Sterling, through sheer force, had managed to reinvigorate the charge. At least for the men in the back. Staring forward, seeing those well protected trenches, I saw no one on our side still alive. No one who had so closely followed Sarge, had been fortunate to survive. How could they have? We charged over corpses as fast as we could. There was no choice. The Nazi's had a new target before them, a wave that plotted to crash against their cliff without relent. They tried to stop us though. They certainly did. The Nazi sent a wave of their own against us. Some dropped…many dropped. Bullets echoing in limbs, and chests, and heads. Fountains of blood rained upon us, corpses tinting their brothers red. But even with my vision stuck scarlet, the return fire didn't matter. Today, at this very moment, our wave was bigger than there's. There was but one way to win today and this was it. Each life bought an extra meter, a second.
10 meters… We were almost there, almost to the trenches.
"OPEN FIRE" Sterling bellowed. "DESTROY THOSE MINES!"
Normally, it is quite difficult for a single soldier to destroy a mine with bullet fire. Mines are generally fairly small, and you need to be pretty lucky to damage it enough for deactivation. That wasn't a problem here however. Hundreds of bullets every second for the final duration of our charge? That was enough. That was more than enough. Dozens of mines shot dust plumes into the air, as their premature activation rocked the Nazi trenches. It was around that moment when I noticed, indeed many did, the dropped bangalores from the first charge. I didn't care to see if the mines had successfully made a path, as Sterling had wished. I rolled my gun to my back, no doubt confusing the men at my side… assuming any of them noticed. Regardless, I bent down and scooped up one of the many bangalores. One of these took about 5 seconds to blow once you ignite it.
5 meters… I lit the fuse.
The dust plumes had decayed away at this point. Looking at the last stretch, I was beyond positive that we had destroyed all the mines. The earth was pockmarked completely. It would not be a straight go for the final bit of the charge. To make matters worse, the mines had not destroyed the fencing as completely as Sterling had desired. Some spots where open, but I eyed one of those that wasn't.
4 meters… 5 seconds
I tried my best to evade around the massive pits. Whatever had been holding the sand firm, had been completely disintegrated. Indeed, even if you managed to keep your distance, you couldn't be sure that the sand wouldn't immediately liquefy under your footsteps.
3 meters… 4 seconds
Fuck, there are so many people here. It was getting more difficult to evade as we got closer to the frontlines. Men were constantly moving in and out of formation. Everyone focused on getting to the end alive. A lot didn't succeed, and their crashing bodies proved an addition obstacle to my objective. I never thought I would have to step on a men's face, mere seconds after they died, but the disrespect was necessary. I was running out of time.
2 meters… 3 seconds
So close. I continued to evade everything as best as I could, weaving between dead men and chasing steel. Until… until, a soldier ran right into my path. No doubt, he had been trying to do the same as I. He failed. He took a shot meant for me. He died instead of me. He crashed, his former momentum carrying him right into me. I had to resist a curse. I did a tight pirouette on the balls of my feet. It was difficult since I was still in sand, but I managed. I spun around his collapsing body, feet smashing into the ground as I continued onwards.
1 meters… 2 seconds
Wait. Something was wrong. Why was I falling?
1 meter… 1 seconds
The man had blocked vision from the Nazis to me. He had also blocked vision from me to the pit a step beyond. Maybe that is why he ran across my path? No. No no no no no. This wasn't fair. Not at all. Was I about to die?
1 meter… 0.5 seconds
It was strange. The fall was weirdly slow. Almost felt as if infinity would pass before I finally crashed into the ground. My mind was clear, more than it ever had been before. One my legs was stuck in a hole while the other was freely dangling. I shot the free leg around, using its momentum to pivot my core around. The arm holding the bangalore was no longer leaning against the ground. Instead, it held the lance proudly in the air, posed for damage. With the last of my focus, I brought my arm back before launching it forward. The bangalore escaped my grip, flying true towards the fencing.
? meter… 0 seconds
Did I make it? I couldn't tell if the lance got to where it was supposed to be. All I do know is that I heard a massive explosion a heartbeat later. My fall seemed to conclude instantaneously after, head crashing fully into the sand. Soon after, I heard more blasts following mine. At the very least, if I messed up, someone must have been successful. I don't know if I was successful though. I didn't want to look. I couldn't stand the failure, not again. Maybe I could just lie here? Pretend that I was dead, another victim lost due to the charge? After all, soldiers ran around me, willfully ignoring another fallen like I had just moments ago.
Had to look… I had to look. My hands pushed against the ground, slowly bringing my entire body up to bear. My head slowly tilted up, resistant to seeing the truth.
The path was clear. I…I had managed it. I saw squad after squad storm through the blasted fences, rushing to leap into the trenches. With a burst of energy like I had never had before, I launched onto my feet, following as quickly as I could manage. I ran past the breached fencing before leaping about half a meter down. I landed into a short fat section of the trench bounded by thick lagging boards with only two narrow exits at either side. Most of the floor was compressed sand except for a few circular concrete footings. On top of those concrete slabs were mortars and the crews that operated them.
The Nazi's were clearly very surprised at seeing their opposition so close, so … enthusiastic. Indeed, allied soldiers leaped in without regard for safety, one after another. They roared into the Nazis with an almost enthusiastic glee due to finally having the enemy in grabbing distance. For so long, this battle seemed struck in a single paradigm: We charged in, then we died. Meanwhile, the Nazi's were constantly none the worse for wear. Their largest struggle was likely the effort used to reload their rifles.
"KILL THEM!" I heard. "KILL THE NAZI BASTARDS!"
Well, that had changed now. We engaged them in face-to-face brutality. Most on our side didn't even bother with bullets, instead preferring to use their bayonets in such tight quarters. Nazi mortar crews were skewered as we ran them through. Blood exploded all throughout the trench as men had cold steel rammed into their hearts. When that proved to not be enough, limbs were slashed away from their bodies and heads were slowly decapitated in multiple non-consecutive assaults. Honestly, it seemed as if no level of massacre would yield catharsis for us. These Nazis acted as monsters, as beasts. Some may even go so far as to say they were worse than beasts. Beasts lacked the conscience, the soul, to know the difference from right and wrong. That capacity was beyond them. These daemons in human's skin, they had to know what they were doing was wrong. That, or they lacked the insight to truly know what their masters were doing.
To be honest, I didn't care either way. I lost too many brothers today; too many good people gone before their time. Our assault continued without relent. Some Nazis tried to run while others tried to surrender. Neither option was accepted. All who wore that accursed swastika was put down. I confess, I took special pleasure in destroying those damn mortars. Eventually though, Sterling found me.
"We've done all we can here." He informed me. "We have to move on. That bunker still stands up there," he said as he pointed to the massive concrete structure above us. Being in these bunkers, that structure no longer had an angle of attack on us. The Nazis would have to fight us in person now. "Half the force will continue following the trench to the east." Sterling pointed to one of the exits now full of soldiers storming through. "We, however, will be taking the west exit." Sterling's hand pivoted to the other side of the trench. "That bunker will be captured today. Whether we live or die, it falls."
I nodded. Both of us, along with a platoon, began charging our way west. The trench continued that way for a bit before making a gentle turn south, essentially following the curve of the bunker all the way up the hill. We had to be careful running in here because the frame-of-view was really tight. Behind any turn could be an ambush or trap. So far, that didn't seem to be the case.
"Nazis, up ahead." I yelled. I could see them just past the turn, trying their best to flee. Some kept going onwards, while a few just took a hard turn to the right. They would no doubt attempt to flee all the way to another bunker. We wouldn't let them get there alive.
"FIRE!' Sterling ordered.
5 of us, include me, went down onto one knee for more stability. We all fired, causing many of the Nazis to immediately collapse, their backs stained with blood. A few of them were able to dodge into the rightward entrance.
"Follow, quickly." Sterling shouted. "Before they get away."
We, who had just fired, were still on our knees. Another squad's worth of men sped up to the intersection, guns at the ready themselves. However, the moment they crossed the precipice, return fire came. They collapsed right on top of the dead Nazi's. All of them, now equal in death.
"No," I gasped. The rest of us charged up, carefully, but quickly all the same. We methodically cut the corner, watching our edges, careful for any opposition. As we turned, I suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps. "Take cover," I shouted. "They are firing again."
Anyone who was at risk immediately leaped away. The rest of us held our position in cover, away from the side trench. However, the strangest thing happened. We held position for a couple seconds, but no bullets flew our way. Eventually, Sterling lost his patience and used a mirror to peak down the way.
"Ahhh!" He roared in rage. "They have fled!"
"What?" I asked in confusion.
Sterling pointed at footprints leading away from us. "They took advantage of our hesitance."
I shrunk a little under his gaze. It was my fault then. I made the mistake.
Sterling bit out a note of fury before selecting half the team. "Go and follow them" he commanded. "Make sure they can't reinforce the next bunker. We shouldn't be putting our burdens on any of the other assault groups." Half of our remaining forces immediately began sprinting into the side trench. "Focus," Sterling addressed the rest of us. "We still have a job to do. Up the trench." Confident that our flanks were protected, we continued our way up
We staggered a bit as great explosions vibrated the earth, but we carefully charged. It was about halfway up the trench when we noticed the end of the thin section. Focusing, we could tell that this bit of the trench was about to open up to another wider area. As we ran, Sterling gave additional orders. "You four," he pointed out, "Get right before the exit. Give supporting fire. Once we move up, we will cover your approach." The soldiers nodded before following the commands. They stopped right before the exit, just far enough so that no one beyond could see them. Then, while leaning up against the trench walls to minimize their profile, they sent fire down sight. Meanwhile, once we had crouched down so that we wouldn't accidently be shot in the back, made our way through the exit.
The first thing we saw on the other side was a moderately sized stone building. In front of which were a number of Nazi soldiers taking cover, attempting to survive the suppressing fire from our comrades. Sterling quickly motioned all of us to approach. We stealthily moved forward, attempting to not draw any attention to ourselves. We snuck our way right up to the cover that the Nazi's were hiding behind. Then, as we waited for Sterlings signal, we each pulled out a knife.
"Now!" He shouted.
A lot happened simultaneously. The men giving support ceased firing immediately and charged up to join us. The Nazis noticed that they were no longer being shot at, so they leaped out of cover to return the favor. Fortunately for us, they never had the opportunity. The moment they stood, we all leaped up knives at the ready. Each Nazi found their throat quickly slit. They dropped to the floor, barely alive, with blood gargled breaths being their final contribution to world.
We then quickly popped back into cover, as bullets flew through our former positions. We stood in the middle of a small clearing. On one side, the side currently shooting at us, was what I presumed to be the Nazi barrack. On the other side, the trench continued up to the concrete bunker at the peak. We had to deal with these damn soldiers before making it to our final goal. I looked over to Sterling who was deep in thought. After a few waves of bullets from the Nazis, there was a noticeable lull. Sterling's eyes went wide. He brought his rifle over the cover, enabling him to return fire. We all joined him. A couple on our side paid the price for our actions, taking bullets through the head. But as they fell to the Earth, now forever quiet, we took our blood price back. Soon, the Nazis could do nothing but huddle behind their barrack walls.
This was the safest this situation would ever be. Knowing that, Sterling initiated the next stage to destroy this obstacle. "Ralph! Flame them out!"
Ralph? Who was Ralph? I turned my head to watch for him.
Wait.
It was him. I watched as that same squirrely looking man from a little bit ago, hesitantly made his way forward. He had a massive gas tank on his back with a lit flamethrower nozzle nestled in his arms. And as he creeped onwards, protected by our covering fire, I found myself wondering when had made it here? I was sure that he didn't join us on the secondary charge. Did he wait till it was safe? Did he actually wait till we had almost entirely captured the front trench lines before making his way over here? At least he was here, I suppose, slowly trudging forward.
"Ralph, faster!" Sterling reiterated. "Burn them out."
Ralph was finally close enough. He positioned his flamethrower forward and immediately hit the trigger. Flaming gasoline was launched into the windows of the barrack. It quickly splashed to every possible surface leaving nothing unburnt. Smoke soon began to billow out of the building, causing more oxygen to be drawn in. I didn't think it was possible, but the flames grew even hotter. Men screamed. It was a primal roar, with no conscious modulation. The shading of it resonated deeply within me. The pain such shouts expressed; I could not have conceived of its existence.
A few of the Nazi ran out in blazing horror. I couldn't help it. I pulled out my sidearm, aiming at putting them out of their misery. These men were monsters, there can be no denial of that fact. But, should I lower myself to their level, cursing them to stew even a moment longer in mortal brimstone? Is it my right to make that decision? I raised my gun.
"Belay that." Sterling ordered. "Let them burn. Where they are going, they might as well get used to it."
"Alright." I muttered. I lowered my pistol. They weren't even screaming anymore, vocal cords already burnt out. Their smoldering bodies just lied on the floor, twitching every so often.
Sterling looked at the building before looking back at Ralph. It was still smoldering with a light amount of smoke, but otherwise the fire had burned itself out. "Make sure no one is still alive. I don't want anyone at our backs as we take the bunker."
"Roger." Ralph nodded grimly. He slowly walked in, careful to cover his corners. We all stayed outside, watching for any other approach. I still made an effort to watch Ralph using the windows though.
About 30 seconds later, Ralph shouted out, "Alright, I think we are clear. No survivors."
"Come back then." Sterling nodded. "We have to begin moving to the bunker. We are burning daylight." Ralph began making his way back.
It was when Ralph was but a few steps away from the door, that I noticed the movement. I turned completely to inspect it more clearly.
"What's wrong?" Sterling asked.
I said nothing. It looked as if a pile of cindered rags was shifting by itself. That couldn't be right. Wait. I screamed when a torched body arose from those rags. "NAZI BY THE WINDOWS." Everyone began to turn, but they weren't fast enough.
Both of us pulled up our guns at the same time. My pistol was aimed at him, while his pistol was aimed at Ralph. I managed to fire first.
The barrack exploded in a burst of flames as Ralph's gasoline tank was pierced. He screamed in agony as flames burned his back away to the bone. He was but steps away from the exit but it didn't matter in the slightest. The building had already been fractured from the Navy's bombardment. It couldn't have been structurally sound before the tank explosion. I could only hope that the collapsing concrete gave him a quick respite from the pain. Within moments, the screaming went silent. He was gone.
I merely stood, frozen in place, gun still aimed at where the window once was. There was a bit of wall just to the right of it that I couldn't stop staring at. I couldn't stop staring at where the bullet had impacted due to me missing my shot. A hundred seconds, a thousand situations replayed in my head. It all happened in nearly an instant. So many things I could have done in retrospect. So many ways that I could have saved him.
"Let's go." Sterling commanded. "Only one more thing left."
He didn't try to comfort me. Good. I didn't deserve it. In silence, we left the smoldering ruin behind as we ran into the trench, bunker in sight. It wasn't a long run, but it was long enough. I had one thing echoing in my head. It echoed for the entire duration of the trench.
"Don't miss. Do not miss again."
It pounded. The same message played beat by beat over constantly in my head. To be honest, the worst part of all this? My disappointment… my dread, it came more from me failing than from the fact I caused a man to die. Ralph was dead yet all I could think about was how terrible I felt. Did that make me a lesser person?
Ralph was dead. This was a fact. I barely knew him though. That was also a fact. A lot of people died today, many of whom I knew better. Do I have to care more about someone I didn't know, because I failed to protect them? I managed to glance at Sterling without him noticing. He was the one who gave Ralph the order to inspect the building in the first place, but he didn't look particularly beat up. Should he feel sad? Or maybe the blame should ultimately fall upon Ralph's own molten soul? He, after all, was the one who failed to do his job properly. Do I deserve more blame? I failed to rescue him yes, but he ultimately put me in that situation.
"It is not my place to judge. That is God's divine right." John had said that to Sam in a conversation that seemed to have taken place so long ago. I hope John found the end he expected. I hope he was right. Its oh so easy to bury yourself in a hole, only to fill it up with sins and regrets. A lot will be remembered of today. So many dead, so many injured. If there exists a lucky man who escapes this war unscathed, I can only imagine the regret. 'Why me?' They will ask themselves. 'Why was I so lucky when all my friends died?' I don't think a sane man could climb off that mountain. You would never stop finding corpses to stack under yourself.
"Take positions around the bunker door." Sterling ordered. "They must know we are here. The barrack explosion wasn't quiet." He filled the spot directly adjacent to it. I took the other position. Everyone else piled by the closest spot they could fit.
I must have looked out of it, because Sterling made a point of staring firmly at me. "Focus," he commanded.
I nodded.
"Alright, I want you to nudge this door open with your rifle," he emphasized at the end. "They will likely fire the moment they hear anything close to movement. It's important that we only open the door a little bit. Make sure you don't close it, but don't get it any wider than it needs to be."
Nodding once more, I pulled the butt of my rifle into the door handle. Though I didn't move yet. I waited for Sterling's go ahead.
He counted down on his fingers.
Three…two… All the men got ready… one! His chopped the air with his hand, telling me to start.
I nudged the door open, just a bit, as commanded. As soon as the first creak from the door echoed, a storm of bullets flew through. Frankly, I was concerned that the door might just disintegrate. The number of bullets traveling outside was incredibly staggering. Although, that fear was slightly eclipsed by the fear caused from hearing so many extra bullets clink against the concrete of the bunker. But after the first dozen impacts, I was fairly sure the wall was more bullet resistant than the door.
Despite all that, I made sure to hold the door open the few centimeters I had nudged it. It was… challenging, the wacky position I had to adopt to avoid being shot. I managed it to deal with it though. The rest of the squad just waited.
After about 30 seconds of near continuous fire, I started to wonder if they had turned the machine gun around. After all, the allies had already taken the ground below the bunker's hill. Maybe they didn't find any reason to continue defending that territory. Maybe they felt that the last fort to defend was their own? Eventually, the fire did stop. We heard several clicks from empty clips. The men tried to force their way into the bunker, but Sterling stopped them. He instead, unclipped a small cylinder from his belt. "Smoke grenade," he whispered. After pulling the pin, he threw it into the small gap I had kept open this whole time.
Moments later, I heard its explosion. Smoke began flowing out of the door like running water. We could hear heavy coughing and dry heaves. We all looked to Sterling, but he frowned a no at us. He wanted us to wait a little longer.
I could see why he wanted that very soon. The smoke escaping the building had revealed holes that I was not even aware of at first glance. That included some bullet holes in the concrete walls that had very nearly clipped my head. Strangely enough though, despite the raw density of the smoke, I could no longer hear any coughing; Sterling hadn't either. By the look on his face, I think that might have been what he had been waiting for.
"GO GO GO!" He shouted.
I threw the door open on my side, which unfortunately prevented my entrance to the bunker. The only thing I could see was a giant cloud of smoke immediately falling out of the bunker, thrilled to no longer be trapped in such an enclosed space. I heard Sterling roar in, guns blazing, with the others following in. Once the last man entered, I finally joined.
The smoke had cleared up a large amount due to me opening the door. I could just barely see the state of the bunker. There were about a dozen dead Nazi soldiers, all leaning up against the giant window that allowed for the machine gun to rain hell upon us when we originally had charged. I imagine the Nazis that leaped for the only available source of fresh air they had. Unfortunately for them, fortunately for us, they had dropped their rifles onto the ground in their coughing fit. Even the massive stationary machine gun turret, which had been pivoted around to the door, was drooping off kilter. Evidently, it was quickly forgotten when its operator had leaped for clean air.
I had missed the fight entirely. Wait. Was it even proper to call this a fight? Looking at all the Nazis, each of which had a clean shot in the back of their head, this looked more like a summary execution. The rest of the surviving soldiers looked proud at least. I watched as Sterling, tired smile on his face, walked over to the flag pole. He began drawing the Nazi standard down, as we all solemnly watched. This was but the beginning of the war. There would be more, a lot more to come. For today, for this hour, surely no one could deny us some level of pleasure though?
Sterling had finally ripped the standard from its clasps. He handed it to me, before grabbing the Union Jack from another. He hooked it into place, then began to pull it up. I meanwhile swayed in place, playing with the flag in my hands. Lost in thought, I couldn't help but ask the very questions I had wondered before. Did I deserve to live? I certainly hadn't expected to live. What did I do that allowed me to survive when others hadn't?
I continued to pace uneasily, when I noticed something in the very corner of the room. My brain pulsed. I had seen this already. I had seen this just moments before. There was a pile of rags beginning to shift awkwardly.
I didn't wait this time. I brought my gun to bear immediately. By the time the shifting motions threw away the rags to reveal a Nazi who had somehow protected himself from the smoke, I was ready. His hands tried to throw something, but I didn't hesitate. Three bullets right to the head. As that body slumped over, I felt immeasurable pride in myself. I had not failed this time. This time, I had I killed the man before he could kill anyone himself.
So trapped in my self-congratulation, I hadn't noticed the small object that fell from the Nazi's hands. Neither did I notice as it rolled over to the center of the room, carried by whatever latent momentum was imparted upon it. I only noticed when I was pushed aside by Sterling who charged towards it. He yelled something, but I couldn't hear. It must have been incredibly important, because all other members of the squad immediately scattered as best they could.
Some leaped out of the machinegun turret window. Some launched themselves out of the exit. Some still covered themselves in the still warm Nazi corpses, trying desperately to create a shield of a sort. I meanwhile, stood in place, paralyzed. I had finally been knocked out of my stupor. How could I not have been, what with all the movement happening?
I could see what Sterling was running towards. I saw the narrow wooden handle with a metal bulb on one side at his intended destination. I watched as he hugged the device with his entire body, desperate to protect the rest of his men from the coming blast.
Desperate to protect the rest of his men from my mistake. And despite everything, in those final milliseconds, I only had one thought echoing in my head.
"But… I didn't miss."
Everything went bright white. It hurt incredibly for a moment, like every single square centimeter of my body was being shot. Strangely though, all the pain stopped immediately after. Only seconds later, I felt no pain at all. Just white. I could only see bright white.
…..
I heard a voice that I hadn't heard in a long time. It was warm and sweet and caring and everything that this war hadn't been. I could still only see white, but what I heard? What I heard resonated in my heart.
"Christopher Robin. Look how big you've gotten."
Notes:
HAPPY EASTER! M.C. Deltat reporting!
Another Chapter and oh boy, is this a long one. I hope you are enjoying this story so far. I tried a decent bit to make a somewhat accurate (if not a bit fantastical) depiction of storming a WW2 beachhead. And while I did take some liberties here and there, I think that on the whole, it's pretty decent. That being said, as you can no doubt tell from the last bit of this chapter, we are about to go somewhere else with this story, somewhere primordial. Next chapter will be massively different in tone as Christopher begins a journey inside himself, as opposed to outside himself. I put a decent bit of thought into it, so … you know… hope you look forward to it.
Anyway, thanks for making it this far, for those of you that have. I put a lot of work into writing this tale and I appreciate your time spent reading it.
As always, I wish you a pleasant day and a happy life.
