Ruse of Victory

October 1943, Azzano, Italy.

The world around him was a swirling vortex of noise and chaos. The deafening roar of artillery, the constant, high-pitched whine of bullets, the ringing in his ears – it was all too much. He tasted smoke and blood, the metallic tang of it filling his mouth.

Bucky huddled low, instinctively ducking each time a shell exploded nearby. His fingers trembled as he rubbed the grime off his face. "I need a drink," he rasped. The acrid smoke, a thick, choking blanket, stung his eyes and throat, leaving him gasping for air.

Dugan, with his ever-present bowler hat somehow still clinging to his head, grinned and pulled a flask from inside his jacket. "Here," he said, thrusting it towards Bucky. "Liquid courage. Straight from the prohibition era."

Bucky took the flask, his hands steadying as he unscrewed the cap. "You sure this isn't water?" he asked, managing a weak smile.

Dugan laughed, a sound that seemed out of place amidst the destruction. "If it is, that water's got a helluva kick."

Bucky took a swig, the alcohol burning a path down his throat but bringing warmth to his chest. "Thanks," he said, handing the flask back.

Dugan took a sip himself, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't mention it. Just another day in paradise, right?"

"Yeah," Bucky replied, though his mind had already drifted far from the battlefield. The roar of the cannon fire faded to a dull hum in Bucky's ears. His gaze softened as he thought of Gretchen. He saw her, not as a surgeon, but as the woman who had captivated him with her kindness, her quiet strength, her smile that could light up a room.

He wondered what she could be doing right now, his heart aching with longing. Did she make it back to the field hospital, or did her transfer to command HQ come through? Is she getting enough sleep? Enough food? He knew how tirelessly she worked, often sacrificing her own well-being for the sake of others. He hoped she was safe, that she hadn't been touched by the madness that consumed them all.

In the quiet moments between the chaos, his thoughts always returned to her. He imagined holding her, and for a moment, the battlefield vanished, replaced by the warmth of her smile and the soothing sound of her voice.

Dugan nudged him with an elbow. "Thinking about her again, aren't ya?"

Bucky blinked, pulled back to the present. "How'd you guess?"

"You're staring off into the distance with that lovesick puppy look on your face," Dugan teased. "Same look I get when I think about my mom's apple pie."

Bucky chuckled despite himself. "Yeah, well, Doc's a bit more than apple pie."

"I know," Dugan said, though his eyes held a rare softness. "Just make sure you stay alive to tell her that."

A shell exploded nearby, sending a shower of dirt and debris over their foxhole. The ground trembled again, and the reality of their situation settled back over them like a suffocating blanket.

Suddenly, a figure tumbled into the nearby foxhole, rolling onto the damp earth with a grunt. It was Gabe Jones, his face pale and eyes wide with fear.

"Sarge!" Gabe shouted over the noise, his voice raw and desperate. "The captain's down! Direct hit! You're in charge now!"

The words hit Bucky like a physical blow. Captain's dead? Shit. He didn't have time to process it. There was no room for hesitation. The mission was clear: take down the Kraut forces holding the bridge. It was their only chance to push forward.

"Goddamn it," Bucky muttered, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. He looked at Dugan, who was already peering over the edge of their foxhole, scanning the battlefield with his sharp, experienced eyes.

"Dugan, get the boys together," Bucky ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We're gonna take that bridge."

With Bucky's leadership, the elements of the 107th successfully captured the bridge—an essential crossing point over the Serchio River that was crucial for supply lines and troop movements.

Gabe wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "There's reports of increased German activity to the north. It looks like they're regrouping for a counterattack. We estimate they'll hit us within the next few hours."

Bucky nodded, his mind already racing through the possible scenarios. "We hold this bridge at all costs. If the Krauts take it back, our entire flank could collapse."

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the river, the men of the 107th prepared for the impending assault.

The wait wasn't long.

Dugan gripped the edge of the trench, his knuckles white, his voice shaking with fear. "Damn it, Barnes! What the hell are we gonna do? We're gettin' slaughtered out here!"

Bucky turned to Gabe, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the battlefield. "What's the SITREP?"

"Harassing fire from five mortar teams." Gabe reported, his breathing heavy.

"Alright," Bucky said, his mind racing. "We'll use a flanking maneuver, get in close, and hit 'em with everything we've got." Bucky instructed. "Remember, we're moving fast, we're moving hard, and we're not leaving anyone behind. Dugan, you take point on the left flank. Gabe, you're with me on the right ."

Gabe nodded, his grip on his rifle tightening. "Let's do this."

They moved out, hugging the ground as they advanced. Bucky's eyes scanned the horizon, searching for the telltale signs of enemy positions.

"Contact left!" Gabe shouted, dropping to a knee and firing a burst. The rest of the squad followed suit, returning fire with precision.

"Suppressive fire on that position!" Bucky ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We need to keep moving!" Bucky yelled, waving his hand forward. "Go, go, go!"

With his sniper rifle in hand, Bucky maneuvered to a better vantage point along the edge of the trench. He took deep breath, steadying his aim as he peered through the rifle's scope. One by one, he picked off the German soldiers manning the mortars.

Bucky, after his final shot, lowered the rifle with a sigh. He gave a grim nod, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Three down...four...five. That's the last of them."

Dugan, who suddenly popped in beside Bucky, threw an arm around his shoulder, clapping him on the back with a boisterous laugh. "Nice shootin', Sarge. You're a real sharpshooter, you know that?"

Suddenly, the darkness was pierced by an unearthly blue glow. Tanks emerged from the night, their armor shimmering with an otherworldly light. The soldiers' initial confusion turned to horror as they realized these were no ordinary tanks.

The ground shook violently and a deafening explosion rips through the air. A dozen soldiers were instantly reduced to ash as a blue beam of light from a Nazi tank fires its otherworldly weapon.

Gabe's eyes widened in horror, his hand flying to his mouth as he stumbled backward. "Sweet mother of God... what is that thing?"

The tanks moved relentlessly forward, cutting through the battlefield like hot knives through butter. Soldiers screamed as they were disintegrated by the energy beams. The Germans, caught in the crossfire, suffered the same fate.

Bucky, his face a mixture of shock and rage, watched as the tank's cannon glows with an eerie blue light. "What the fuck is going on out there?" his voice hoarse from the constant barrage. This was a new level of destruction, unlike anything they had ever seen before.

Dugan's eyes narrowed, "I don't know... but we need to take that thing down."

Before they can react further, a group of soldiers surrounded the trio, shouting orders in German and brandishing their weapons menacingly.

The soldier, holding his rifle at a ready position, barked the order: ""Hände hoch! Oder es gibt Probleme!" (Hands up! Or there will be trouble!)

Bucky, lowering his rifle with a sigh, looked as the otherworldly-powered tank rolls away, knowing that the war has taken a devastating turn.

As the soldiers were marched off, the haunting image of these advanced weapons loomed in Bucky's thoughts. What the hell are we supposed to do against that?