E Company
“Left flank! Forward!” Captain James McLeod ordered his men behind the nearby barn, which was their only protection from the raging gunfire. The field itself was a desolate necropolis after the fighting of the day, flies hovering in anticipation for McLeod’s men and a grey mist creeping over the horizon.
“Where’s the rest of E Company, Captain?” asked Jack of his commanding officer although he knew the answer already.
“It’s just us, soldier”, he said as he scouted the field, “The rest of the mission is up to us.” The rest of the men nodded in a way that only men who have seen such abominations and lived through it could.
“In the next dip of gunfire sprint for that ridge”, ordered their Captain, “And stay low!” The gunfire quietened and James nodded to his men, mouthing to them; guns at the ready. But they already knew that: they had been at Bastogne. Harry, the youngest private, had lost his best friend Billy during a race for the foxholes.
Harry sprinted first and leaped, skidding, behind the ridge. He checked his rifle and surveyed the enemy troops with the barrel. Jack was next to go running into their no-mans-land, gun clamped to his side, like a torpedo he landed next to Harry and mirrored his position. A few rounds of sniper fire whistled past Captain McLeod’s ear.
“Quickly Scott, go!” The raven-headed soldier started across but had only gotten two steps when a sniper’s bullet ripped through him like a hot iron.
Captain James McLeod cursed and turned to his remaining counterpart. Private Lewis, a replacement from D Company, young and scared, he’d been good friends with Scott. They raced over to the downed Private and slung themselves on either side of him. He wasn’t breathing. McLeod checked his pulse and shook his head. Lewis put his hand over his friends face and closed his eyelids as McLeod wrenched the dog tag from the dead soldier’s neck. They ran on to the remains of their company.
“Scott?” asked Private Jack. Lewis just shook his head and collapsed down beside Harry.
“What’s the next offensive, Captain?” asked Harry. The Captain thought for a moment before looking over the ridge and speaking.
“We take out the sniper then launch a load of grenades at the soldiers on the ground.”
The four soldiers were about to clamber over the ridge when a bullet sliced through Jack’s neck like a jagged knife. It sent him flying back four feet where he skidded to a half, scarring the earth. Even the Germans must have heard the blood curdling screams as the three soldiers ran to the private’s side as James inspected the wound. Jack grasped Harry’s hand in a vice grip.
“I don’t want to die! I can’t die!” he was shaking terribly, so his Captain could barely see the wound through the blood. An explosion cracked through the air behind them and the soldiers snapped their necks round but when the looked back at Jack his sad, glazed eyes were looking at something they couldn’t see. He slumped in Captain McLeod’s arms.
A moment later the wounded troop began to advance slowly on the enemy shooting as they went...
“Boys!” shouted a shrill female voice. “Dinner’s ready!” Three boys turned around.
“Aw... Mam!” said Captain James McLeod, “We were just about to advance on the German army!” he whined. The three khaki clad boys scampered back down the garden path back to the house. As they went back James’ Mom asked where the others were.
“They had to go home, Mam!” he said.
“Yeah”, agreed Lewis, “They got killed by the Germans!”
“Where’s the rest of E Company, Captain?” asked Jack of his commanding officer although he knew the answer already.
“It’s just us, soldier”, he said as he scouted the field, “The rest of the mission is up to us.” The rest of the men nodded in a way that only men who have seen such abominations and lived through it could.
“In the next dip of gunfire sprint for that ridge”, ordered their Captain, “And stay low!” The gunfire quietened and James nodded to his men, mouthing to them; guns at the ready. But they already knew that: they had been at Bastogne. Harry, the youngest private, had lost his best friend Billy during a race for the foxholes.
Harry sprinted first and leaped, skidding, behind the ridge. He checked his rifle and surveyed the enemy troops with the barrel. Jack was next to go running into their no-mans-land, gun clamped to his side, like a torpedo he landed next to Harry and mirrored his position. A few rounds of sniper fire whistled past Captain McLeod’s ear.
“Quickly Scott, go!” The raven-headed soldier started across but had only gotten two steps when a sniper’s bullet ripped through him like a hot iron.
Captain James McLeod cursed and turned to his remaining counterpart. Private Lewis, a replacement from D Company, young and scared, he’d been good friends with Scott. They raced over to the downed Private and slung themselves on either side of him. He wasn’t breathing. McLeod checked his pulse and shook his head. Lewis put his hand over his friends face and closed his eyelids as McLeod wrenched the dog tag from the dead soldier’s neck. They ran on to the remains of their company.
“Scott?” asked Private Jack. Lewis just shook his head and collapsed down beside Harry.
“What’s the next offensive, Captain?” asked Harry. The Captain thought for a moment before looking over the ridge and speaking.
“We take out the sniper then launch a load of grenades at the soldiers on the ground.”
The four soldiers were about to clamber over the ridge when a bullet sliced through Jack’s neck like a jagged knife. It sent him flying back four feet where he skidded to a half, scarring the earth. Even the Germans must have heard the blood curdling screams as the three soldiers ran to the private’s side as James inspected the wound. Jack grasped Harry’s hand in a vice grip.
“I don’t want to die! I can’t die!” he was shaking terribly, so his Captain could barely see the wound through the blood. An explosion cracked through the air behind them and the soldiers snapped their necks round but when the looked back at Jack his sad, glazed eyes were looking at something they couldn’t see. He slumped in Captain McLeod’s arms.
A moment later the wounded troop began to advance slowly on the enemy shooting as they went...
“Boys!” shouted a shrill female voice. “Dinner’s ready!” Three boys turned around.
“Aw... Mam!” said Captain James McLeod, “We were just about to advance on the German army!” he whined. The three khaki clad boys scampered back down the garden path back to the house. As they went back James’ Mom asked where the others were.
“They had to go home, Mam!” he said.
“Yeah”, agreed Lewis, “They got killed by the Germans!”